


Weathering the Storm

by ChipsintheChapel



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/F, Multiple chapters, Slow Burn, actually quite full of love and friendship, adventure and badassery, but also suspense, not particularly grim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 19:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 177,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipsintheChapel/pseuds/ChipsintheChapel
Summary: Near-future dystopian AU.Patsy is an aide worker in a refugee camp when she meets Delia and a relationship blossoms. But not everyone's motivations are as they seem, and when a devastating secret is revealed they must both face their pasts in order to save the day. Can they come together to defeat a nefarious foe? Can their love weather the storm?A tale of adventure, love, betrayal and glorious slow burn, featuring the whole gang working together to fight evil in a strange new world.





	1. Patsy

Patsy wasn’t sure if she had ever felt so exhausted. 

Not that any days in camp were particularly easy, but today had contained a unique combination of physical and emotional drain that was threatening to completely undo her normally steely resolve. She sighed and glanced at her reflection in the window of the prep room. She noticed the soot still clinging tenaciously to her neck. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

Her day had started before dawn, when a new batch of incendiaries floated down, setting off alarms and forcing her from the cot she felt she had just settled down in. She spent the next several hours scrambling around with the others in the now-familiar routine of manning the pumps, buckets, and hoses in an attempt to prevent their makeshift canvas homes from going up in flames. The food-storage tent had been a particularly close call, but in the end all that had perished were several sacks of sugar, much to Monica Joan’s dismay.

No sooner had the fires been put out than the latest batch of refugees began arriving, trickling in in groups of 10-15, all clustered around their beacons. While all workers at the camp had basic medical knowledge, as a trained nurse, Patsy was called on to be of service in the medical tent more than most. As she made her way to the prep room to wash up, she ran into Trixie. Her fellow nurse was also covered in soot, but appeared to be in a fairly chipper mood despite it all. 

‘No rest for the wicked, Patsy!’ she greeted with a wry smile, as she began scrubbing her hands in the uncomfortably cold bucket of water. 

‘I know I’m no angel, but I’d no idea we’d been quite so wicked,’ Patsy returned with a suppressed yawn. 

‘Speak for yourself, Mount.’ Trixie shot back with a laugh. ‘There’s a reason I’m on this side of the battle lines.’

A raised eyebrow and a half smile were the only response. 

 

Once in the medical tent, they settled into their familiar routine. Shelagh checked people in and handed out temporary tent assignments. Patsy, Trixie and Evangelina took care of those they could, while the more complex issues were sent to Dr. Noakes. For the most part, it had been a morning of cleaning up cuts and scrapes and tending to mild cases of dehydration. A few cases were referred to Julienne for counselling, but on the whole, it had gone rather smoothly. Still, Patsy’s stomach had repeatedly reminded her that she hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast. 

There was to be no solace in luncheon, however, as their quixotic and temperamental cook was still in mourning over the lost sugar, and refused to come out of her makeshift greenhouse to prepare food, declaring only, ‘God’s sweetest gift to man has been reduced to mere shards of carbon. I must now restore balance by tending to His other carbon-based gifts.’ 

So Patsy and Evangelina braved the still-smouldering food tent in search of nourishment. Too tired to prepare anything particularly fancy, they had settled for a few packets of biscuits, 2 cans of beans, and some slightly melty Cheshire that undoubtedly needed to be eaten. As she surveyed the honestly rather sad spread, Trixie expressed her displeasure.

‘Honestly, what is even the point of having Monica Joan be our cook if she’s just going to refuse to enter the kitchen every time something burns? They drop those blasted incendiaries nearly every day. You think she’d be used to it by now.’ 

‘None of us signed up for this work to be wined and dined like the Duchess of Cornwall!’ 

Trixie rolled her eyes at Evangelina’s gruff response, ‘Perhaps not, but one can’t be expected to sustain oneself on cold beans and stale biscuits. I’m not asking for The Ritz, just a bit of effort.’ 

‘Just think, Trixie, we’re only meat and veg away from a full English. Oh, and the eggs of course.’ Chummy paused to consider, and continued a little less brightly, ‘I suppose those are all the most important bits.’ 

This elicited a small smile from Trixie, ‘Don’t get me started on the subject of eggs, Dr. Noakes. I strongly suspect Monica Joan trades away all of the eggs from those chickens of hers to Fred in order to get more seedlings.’ 

Evangelina huffed, ‘I don’t hear you complaining in the summer and fall, when we get to enjoy the fruits of those labours.’

‘True,’ Trixie considered, ‘Though it would make the late winter much more pleasant if the bounty of the year were spread out a bit.’

‘It’s all in how you think about it Trixie,’ Patsy chimed in, with a wry smile. ‘In these days of uncertainty, isn’t it nice to know we can always count on the stable monotony of plain ration biscuits?’ 

Even Evangelina couldn’t help a small chuckle. 

 

After lunch, Patsy began her normal routine as the medical side of camp’s chief logistics officer. She spent several hours taking stock of inventory and checking in with everyone about required supplies and issues that needed resolving. 

She was headed to the camp entrance to greet the shipment of general supplies that was due to arrive when the SOS signal sounded over the PA system. She sighed to herself. There was rarely enough to meet everyone’s needs, and if she wasn’t there Shelagh would undoubtedly grab more for the temporary housing side of camp. Her hopes that she wouldn’t be needed were dispelled by the five rapid beeps that followed the general signal. All five trained medical personnel were needed in the medical tent. Her heart leapt into her throat. Requesting all five of them was incredibly rare. Something must truly be wrong. 

She met up with Trixie as they hurried toward the tent. The blonde, completely covered in soot and a fresh layer of grease, was in a bit of a huff. 

‘I’d finally gotten around to the transmission on the old Land Rover Fred brought around last week, and it’s currently in several pieces. This had better be important!’

The sight that greeted them when they entered the tent stopped them both in their tracks. On one of the beds in the middle of the tent was a very pregnant, very hysterical woman. Chummy and Julienne were already there, trying to calm her in hushed tones.

‘Alright ladies, who remembers their obstetrics best?’ Evangelina asked gruffly as she bustled out of the prep room carrying an armload of sheets and towels. 

Patsy was still too shocked to process the question. In her previous two years at the camp she had never seen a pregnant woman come through, let alone one this close to full term. Since the round-ups, many would-be refugee women couldn’t get pregnant, and those that could generally fled as soon as it was discovered. She felt a pang of extreme concern for the woman. 

‘Why on earth was she traveling so far along? And alone? It’s incredibly dangerous!’ She cringed internally as soon as the words left her mouth. She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. 

‘While I’m sure that how we ended up here is a rollicking tale, I don’t think it matters at this moment, Nurse Mount. Now, I shall ask again, which of you has the most experience with obstetrics?’ 

‘I did a round of obstetrics at school.’ Trixie finally managed. ‘I remember quite liking it.’ 

Chummy chose this moment to join their conversation, speaking in a calm yet authoritative tone, ‘That’s just marvellous, Trixie. Why don’t you go change into some less…well used clothing and then return to assist. Patsy, would you mind gathering the necessary supplies while Nurse Franklin changes?’ 

‘Yes, doctor.’ They replied in unison. 

 

Several minutes later, Patsy returned from the prep room bearing armloads of supplies, ‘We have a small amount of pethidine left, if you think that would be helpful, Dr Noakes.’ 

‘Given that Constance here has quite a large bump on her head and not the greatest recollection of the last several hours, I’m afraid we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.’ She directed her attention back to the woman, who had calmed considerably. ‘Now, Constance, it appears this baby is on its way. You did a marvellous job making it here to us. You are obviously incredibly strong and quite brave, and we’re all going to be here to help you do this. Are you ready?’ 

The woman looked uncertainly Chummy, ‘I want Hakim. Where is he? He should be here!’ Her voice cracked as she got increasingly agitated. She moved as if to get up, but winced as she adjusted her legs.

Chummy raised the woman’s long skirt to check for injuries, and suddenly froze. 

‘What’s going on? Is there a-‘ Evangelina fell silent as she caught a glimpse of the woman’s calf. 

Patsy craned her neck to see. Her blood ran cold when she saw the sticky residue around the puncture wounds. The tell-tale ribbons of black were already snaking under the skin up past the knee. No one moved. No one breathed. 

At that moment, Trixie returned and, sensing the tension in the air, approached Patsy silently, a quizzical look etched on her features. 

Patsy whispered, ‘Reaper bite.’

Trixie gasped. She shot a look of concern towards Constance. ‘Location and spread?’

‘Calf bite. It’s past the knee,’ Patsy replied.

‘Shit.’ 

Chummy made eye contact with Julienne, who was sitting calmly at Constance’s side, and shook her head. 

‘What is it? What’s going on?’ Constance pleaded, looking back and forth between the two women. 

Julienne remained, as always, utterly calm and composed. ‘There’s been a bit of a change of plans, Constance. We’re going to have to put you under general anaesthesia and deliver your baby by caesarean section.’

‘Why? Is something wrong with my baby?’

‘No, as far as we know, your baby is fine. The problem is that it seems you’ve gotten a bite.’

‘A bite?’ Constance’s face was etched with panic. ‘A Reaper?’ she croaked out.

Julienne nodded, ‘Yes, but it’s not Stage 4, we just need to…’ the rest of Julienne’s words were drowned out by Constance’s sobbing screams. 

While Julienne continued to try to calm her, Chummy turned to the nurses.

‘Patsy, how many doses of antidote do we have?’

‘Five’

‘Good. Go get two, and raid the supplies to put together a caesarean packet. Evangelina, the anaesthesia supplies. Trixie, an amputation packet. I want all three of you scrubbed in. Now.’ 

 

By the time Patsy returned from the safe with the antidote, the other three were scrubbed in and inside the makeshift operating theatre. She handed over the doses and injection packets, catching a glimpse of the amputation implements laid out on the tray. She suppressed the surge of memories, and made her way to the prep room to scrub in.

She entered the room to find Julienne bustling around preparing the caesarean packet.

‘Oh, Julienne, there was no need. I could have.’ 

‘Please, don’t worry, Nurse Mount. I wanted to have something useful to do. I feel so terrible for her. To have lost so much. To have so much to lose.’ 

Patsy moved over to the sink and began scrubbing her hands. They both worked in silence for a few moments before Patsy asked, quietly, not sure she really wanted to know the answer, ‘Who’s Hakim?’ 

Julienne sighed. ‘Hakim was her husband.’ She paused and took a deep breath before going on. ‘Her memories are a little hazy, but she remembers they were walking together with a beacon group. She was moving very slowly due to her pregnancy, and the group grew impatient. Several kilometres from here, they left her and Hakim behind. The two of them made it a bit further, but without the protection of the beacon…’ she trailed off. ‘She doesn’t remember, or won’t let herself remember, exactly what happened. She ran and fell and must have hit her head. Then she woke up in tremendous pain alone on the side of the road. That she managed to walk here was something of a miracle. We can’t know for sure what happened to Hakim, but if she had only one bite…’ Once again, she couldn’t finish. 

Patsy stared for a moment, feeling the rage build up inside her. ‘They _left _her.’ Her volume remained low, but her voice trembled with anger. ‘They left a heavily pregnant woman and her husband in the woods to die, and didn’t even tell us when they got here? We could have sent help!’__

Julienne looked meaningfully at Patsy for a few moments, as if carefully considering her response. Finally, she replied softly, ‘The survival instinct is an extremely powerful one, Nurse Mount. Never forget that every refugee that comes through those gates is exhausted and genuinely fearful for their lives. Try not to judge too harshly.’ She seemed to consider whether she had said enough, before continuing somewhat hesitantly, ‘Guilt and shame are also incredibly powerful forces. They cause us to push away or bury deep within us things we’d rather not have to remember, let alone have to share with others.’ 

Patsy felt profoundly uncomfortable under Julienne’s steady gaze. Sensing that Patsy needed a moment alone, Julienne announced she was going to deliver the surgical packet and quickly left the room.

_______________________________________________________________________

Patsy stood at the sink, scrubbing her hands compulsively with cold water and trying her best to keep the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her at bay. But all of the sensory assaults of the day kept crashing down upon her: the lack of sleep and food, the memory of lying on a table, the tray of amputation implements, the palpable fear, the searing pain, then the being left behind, pushed away, forgotten. 

She wasn’t sure if she had ever felt so exhausted. 

She was scrubbing at the soot on her neck when she heard a commotion outside, followed by Peter bursting into the prep room. 

‘Where’s Julienne?’

‘I’m right here.’ Julienne re-appeared, ‘What’s going on.’

Peter spoke very rapidly, panting slightly as he was still out of breath from running to the tent. ‘An old van just broke through the gates with four people inside, two quite badly injured. They just wouldn’t stop. Ploughed right through the gate. We need you to come right away. Evangelina too. To assess safety and next steps.’

‘Calm down, Mr Noakes, I don’t see why Evangelina or I are needed. The injured should be brought here. The gate secured temporarily, and reinforced in the morning. If the car is in the way, it can be pushed to the lot. We can speak to the two uninjured people in my office.’ 

‘You don’t understand. Two of them are wearing Redemptionist uniforms. We’re guarding them now, and the car doesn’t seem to be booby trapped, but we have to proceed carefully. The driver keeps assuring us it’s a misunderstanding, but we may be under some kind of attack.’ 

A cold fear shot through Patsy. She had always known they may be attacked, but she had honestly expected it to be an aerial bombardment. Bloc spies would surely have warned them of an impending large-scale ground attack. Her mind raced thinking of how to organize defences, evacuations. They were so poorly prepared. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Julienne’s calm voice. 

‘I’m not sure after all this time the Redemptionists would send a van full of injured people as the vanguard of some great attacking force. But it is probably best to err on the side of caution. Have all four of them put under guard in the quarantine tent. Evangelina is otherwise occupied at the moment, but Nurse Mount and I will attend to the injured until she and Dr Noakes can come to advise.’ Peter nodded and hurried off. 

Julienne turned to Patsy. ‘Pop your head in and tell Evangelina and Dr Noakes they are needed in the quarantine tent as soon as they are able. Trixie will have to stay with Constance. Stop by the kitchen and fetch Jane on your way over. She should be able to help us with the injured, as we’re a little shorthanded.’ And with that, she turned and left.

 

Patsy relayed the message to the slightly confused but generally otherwise-focused surgical team before heading off to the kitchen. Jane silently skittered off to change into scrubs while Monica Joan handed Patsy a much-appreciated muffin that she had somewhat perplexingly prepared for dinner. 

As she made her way not-overly-quickly to the quarantine tent, munching on her still-warm dinner, Patsy considered Julienne’s words. If this wasn’t a part of some attack, why were Redemptionists so far north? Why had they broken through the gate? How had they gotten injured? Why on earth had they come _here _?__

____

____

Patsy paused at the entry to the quarantine tent. She could hear heated voices inside. She closed her eyes. She knew she had a job to do. A moral obligation to care for the injured. 

But on the other side of this door was the human manifestation of all of the hatred that had been sending waves of anguished refugees to their camp. That had unleashed the Reapers on the world. That had taken Constance’s husband. That had taken Patsy’s…she shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to go _there _. Not if she was going to survive tonight.__

____

____

She took a deep breath and steeled herself to provide the best care she could without judgement. Without feeling. 

She stepped into the restricted tent distant, detached; prepared to effectively assist with triage and then return to people who deserved her care. She was prepared for monsters. Needless to say, the sparkling blue eyes that shot up to meet hers, filled with steely defiance and determination but also profound warmth, were not what she expected and, for the briefest moment, it took her breath away.


	2. Delia

Delia was at the absolute end of her rope. She prided herself on remaining calm in even the most stressful of circumstances, but this man was taxing her very last nerve and giving her a pounding headache. She took a deep breath, intent on trying again. 

‘I don’t know why this is so hard for you to believe. We’re with the Solidarity Bloc. We ran into trouble and came here for medical aide. Why on earth would we have come here if we were Redemptionists?’ 

‘Then why are those two wearing Redemptionist uniforms?’ He pointed to where Phyllis and Barbara lay on beds on the other side of the tent. 

‘As I explained before, we are spies. We were undercover, thus the uniforms. Our cover was blown, we were injured, we fled, we came here. It’s not that complicated.’ Delia knew her irritation was apparent in her voice. 

‘But wouldn’t that be what you would say if you _were_ a Redemptionist? How do we know you’re not a Redemptionist spy posing as a Solidarity Bloc spy posing as a Redemptionist?’ 

Delia sighed. This man was clearly an idiot. She looked over to where the older woman he had entered with was tending to Barbara. Delia wished she could be explaining things to her. She would undoubtedly be more sensible and, given the way that the man seemed to be constantly glancing towards her, she was probably the one who was in charge anyway. 

‘Anyway, if you’re Solidarity Bloc, why did you break through the gate?’

Delia snapped her attention back to him, unable to hold back the frustration she felt.

‘You and the bloody gate! For the last time, we had severe injuries, and I had the suspicion that we would have to deal with bureaucratic crap because of the uniforms. A fear which has been justified, by the way.’ She turned her attention back to the woman tending Barbara, calling out, ‘And you’d better not be shirking on quality-of-care because you have the ridiculous notion that we’re the enemy. Why is there only one of you, anyway? We have two badly injured people here!’

Right on cue, a tall redhead stepped into the tent. Their eyes met for just a moment. Delia stared as the redhead seemed to hesitate for the briefest second, as if uncertain she was in the right place. 

From the other side of the tent, the older woman finally addressed Delia, her voice soft and calm, ‘As you can see, more of us are on the way, and I assure you that we will provide your friends with the best medical care possible under the circumstances. With that in mind, perhaps we can leave the question of your allegiances until your friends are more stable.’

The redhead had gotten over her initial uncertainty and bustled over to where Barbara and Phyllis lay. The older woman turned to her,

‘Is Jane on her way?’

‘Yes, Julienne. Sorry for the delay. She should be here any moment.’ 

So this was Julienne. Proud of having correctly read that the woman was in charge, Delia watched her with curiosity and admired how calmly and efficiently she directed both the redhead and the new small, skittish woman who had just arrived.

Delia sighed. There was nothing she could do now other than wait and trust. These camp workers were good people. She knew they were capable of taking excellent care of her injured team, and she had to trust them even if they didn’t trust her. 

Delia looked over at where Winifred was sitting curled up on the floor, just staring blankly into space. A pang of guilt shot through her. She had put Winifred through a lot tonight, and it had clearly taken its toll. Delia made her way over and sat next to her, wrapping Winifred in her arms and just holding her against her chest. 

‘Oh Winnie, I’m so sorry about tonight. But it’s going to be alright. Phyllis and Barbara are going to be fine. Just wait and see.’ Delia desperately hoped that she was right.

Sitting there on the floor of a quarantine tent, her team battered and broken, her head pounding, Delia wondered again how things had gotten so utterly mucked up.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Several hours before, as she had rocketed the van out of the compound gates, Delia had first wondered how on earth it had gone so terribly wrong. How had their cover been blown? Surely there was always a risk, but they had taken all possible precautions. Could it have been…? No, Delia didn’t even let herself think that. They may not be on the best of terms, but-

‘Delia! Behind us!’ 

Delia was snapped out of her thoughts by Winifred’s cry from the passenger seat. Looking in the mirror, she saw four sets of headlights racing after them. 

‘Shit,’ she muttered to herself. She looked over her shoulder and yelled to the back, ‘Barbara, can you reach the flash bag?’

The only response was a muffled groan. 

‘I think Barbara’s out of commission at the moment.’ Phyllis’ voice sounded pained.

‘What about you, Phyllis? Can you reach it?’

‘Even if I could, I fear my arm couldn’t do anything with them just now.’ 

Delia cursed under her breath as she pushed the accelerator to the floor, hearing the engine strain in protest. There was no way this old machine could outrun their pursuers. She had known that Barbara and Phyllis were in bad shape when she’d dragged them to the van, but she’d had no idea things were this bad. There was nothing else for it. She would have to rely on…

‘Winifred,’ she turned to the small woman curled in the seat next to her. ‘Listen to me carefully. I need you to climb in the back and get the flash bag and bring it back here to under the sunroof.’

‘But that’s not really something I–‘

‘I know you’re not particularly comfortable with weaponry and such, but we really have no other choice. I know you can do this.’ 

Winifred made an annoyed little huffing noise before clambering into the back.

Delia shook her head. She had no idea how anyone could be so skittish, yet paradoxically so calm. Winifred generally refused to touch anything explosive, flammable, or ‘created only to impart violence’ (her words) because they made her jumpy. But now, in a literal life-or-death car chase situation, she was calm enough to express consternation about having to ensure their survival. 

‘I would just like to point out that if you had let me drive, you could be the one playing with your newfangled weapons,’ Winifred opined as she dragged the bag behind the front seats and set herself up. 

Delia actually allowed herself a small smile at that. 

‘If you thought for one minute that I was going to let you be behind the wheel for a high-speed getaway, you’ve well and truly lost it. We’ve only just started your driving lessons!’

‘I’m a fast learner,’ Winifred mumbled.

Delia chuckled slightly at Winifred’s lack of self-awareness. 

‘Do you remember how to tell the difference between a smoke bomb, a flash-pot, and a timed grenade?’

‘I _think so _,’ came the uncertain reply. ‘Is this one the timed grenade?’__

__Winifred’s hand was suddenly right next to Delia’s face, holding a smoke bomb, her finger hovering over the trigger._ _

__‘Do I just press this button to arm it?’_ _

__‘Jesus Christ, Winifred!’ Delia flinched away from the weapon, causing the car to swerve and Winifred’s finger to come perilously close to setting off a smoke bomb in the van. ‘Don’t touch any of the bloody triggers yet!’_ _

__Delia steadied the van and sent up a quick prayer to whoever might be listening._ _

__‘Phyllis! Please tell me you’re at least cogent enough to make sure Winifred doesn’t kill us all!’_ _

__‘I think I can at least help her differentiate between a grenade and a smoke bomb.’ Phyllis’ voice sounded a bit wobbly, and Delia felt a bolt of concern shoot through her. Phyllis and Barbara needed immediate attention. But first…_ _

__‘Alright, there should be a crossroads coming up here. Winifred, just before it, on my signal, I need you to throw 2 smoke bombs out the sunroof, then 2 flash pots, then 3 timed grenades 1 second apart. Got it?’_ _

__‘Got it,’ came the reply from Phyllis and Winifred in unison._ _

__Delia heard them finding the correct projectiles and arranging them in the right order. She checked the mirror. The pursuing lights were getting closer by the second. Soon they would be in range to make it worth using precious ammunition to shoot at the van. She saw a sign for the crossroads ahead. Not a moment too soon, she thought._ _

__‘Winifred, are you ready?’_ _

__‘When you give the go-ahead.’_ _

__‘Right, I’ll begin the countdown in a moment. And Winifred?’_ _

__‘Yes?’_ _

__‘Throw them back. Towards the cars that are chasing us.’_ _

__‘Har har.’_ _

__‘OK, three…two…one…Now!’_ _

__Winifred began tossing the smoke bombs just as the first shots rang out from the pursuing cars. Delia knew the various projectiles had fulfilled their purpose when she heard the squealing of tires behind her. She looked in the mirror to see a chaotic scene of smoke and flashing lights, punctuated by three resounding explosions that set two of the cars on fire._ _

__Having reached the crossroads, she shut off the headlights, turned to the left, and drove 50 meters or so down the road before turning sharply to the right down a small unmarked dirt track. She said a quiet thanks both for how early darkness had fallen and the thin crescent moon. And, if she was being honest, for the hours she had spent poring over satellite maps of the area. She was fairly certain their pursuers wouldn’t know about this now-abandoned road._ _

__Nevertheless, out of an abundance of caution, she used the faint moonlight to drive down the dark road for another few minutes before shutting off the engine. She turned to the back and addressed her question to the pitch-black darkness._ _

__‘Is everyone alright?’_ _

__‘Barbara’s lost consciousness, which is probably for the best right now, and I’m a bit worse for wear, but I’ll live. Winifred?’_ _

__Winifred’s voice was small and shaky, ‘Did I really set those cars on fire? The people in them…’ Her voice trailed off._ _

__‘You did wonderfully, Winnie.’ Delia used the diminutive she reserved for situations when Winifred was obviously distressed. ‘You did what needed to be done to get us out alive.’_ _

__‘You did good, kid.’ Phyllis added when Winifred remained silent. ‘Because you saved us, we get to continue our work towards neutralizing the Reapers, and that’s going to save countless lives.’_ _

__‘Speaking of Reapers,’ Delia interrupted, ‘I’m going to turn off the beacon for a while so it won’t register on their scans.’_ _

__A terrified whimper came from Winifred’s direction._ _

__‘Don’t worry, Winnie. We’ll be fine as long as we stay silent and in the van. Their protocol is to scan for 10 minutes. They’ve probably just got the scanner set up, so it won’t be for long.’_ _

__‘That’s because it doesn’t take them long to get you,’ came the quiet but rebellious response._ _

__Delia chose to ignore it, and reached to the dashboard, flipping the switch down._ _

____

 

The silence was deafening. They waited. And waited. Delia’s mind wandered to the last four days, poring over every single one of their choices, actions, words…what could have tipped the Redemptionists off? It had been going so well. Her head hurt from concentrating so hard. 

She checked the glowing face of her watch. It had been 6 minutes. She sighed. Only 4 to go. 

Suddenly, a twig snapped outside. Something was there. She heard a snuffling sound followed by a low growl. 

Reapers. 

Damn it.

Delia willed Winifred to stay quiet with every fibre of her being. She looked at her watch. 3 and a half minutes to go. An eternity. 

The snuffling slowly got closer and closer until the Reapers were right next to the van. It sounded like there were two, a tiny pack. Another stroke of luck, she thought, though it wasn’t as if two couldn’t kill them all, especially in their state. Delia was sure they must be able to hear her heart pounding in her chest. 

No one dared move a muscle. 8 minutes 30 seconds. They might make it through. 

Suddenly, Barbara began to regain consciousness and let out a tiny whimper. 

All hell broke loose. 

The Reapers instantly began throwing themselves against the van, snarling and scratching and biting at the metal and unleashing blood-curdling howls. Delia had been wrong. There were at least five of them. As the van rocked terrifyingly back and forth, the sound of rending metal ringing through the air, Winifred screamed over and over at the top of her lungs ‘Don’t let them bite me!’ 

‘Delia! The beacon!’ Phyllis yelled. 

Delia looked at her watch. 9 minutes. 

‘I can’t yet. They’re still scanning. The van will hold. Barbara and I reinforced it last month.’

‘With the racket they’re making, they won’t need any bloody scanners to find us! We need to turn it on. NOW!’ 

Delia still hesitated. They were pretty far down the dirt track, and Reaper howls were not uncommon. Would this din really attract attention? The beacon would definitely be able to be scanned. 

‘Turn the beacon on now! That’s an _order_ , Delia!’

Delia tensed. Phyllis was technically her superior, but they always functioned as an equitable team. She hated it when Phyllis pulled rank. She looked at her watch as she reached over and flipped on the beacon. 9 minutes 30 seconds. 

There were yelps of pain from outside, accompanied by the sound of the Reapers running off through the brush. Winifred’s screaming ceased.

‘Well, that was certainly terrifying. Did I manage to almost get us killed?’ Barbara’s strained voice made its way up from the far back of the van. 

Delia chuckled. They had been through so much together at this point, and Barbara always seemed to take it in stride. 

‘Glad you could join us, Babs. Now, we’d better get you some medical attention. And get out of here in case they picked us up on their scans.’ She hoped her annoyance registered with Phyllis. ‘I’ll take us to the nearest medical camp. We can be there in half an hour.’

‘No.’ Phyllis’ rebuttal was firm. ‘The mission is still very much on. We have to initiate Plan B.’ 

Delia was dumbfounded. 

‘We just barely escaped with our lives. We still have no idea how the operation was blown. Surely we have to go back to HQ and assess-‘

‘Delia, you know very well how important, essential even, our mission is. We suffered a setback today, but that doesn’t mean we turn tail and run. We have a Plan B because we knew Plan A might fail. Now we initiate it.’ 

‘But you and Barbara need immediate medical care.’

‘Well it’s a good thing Camp Poplar has medical facilities then, isn’t it?’

 

 

Delia had been driving for a little over an hour and a half and was still not convinced this was a good idea. She had weaved on back roads for a bit, in case they were being followed, but now she was on the main road north towards Camp Poplar. She knew how injured her team was, and the terrible state of the road meant she couldn’t go as fast as she wanted without risking jolting them too much. Every time she went over a bump she heard Phyllis grunt in pain. 

Delia looked over at the passenger seat, where Winifred was staring worriedly out the window.

‘Winifred,’ Delia spoke softly, ‘Why don’t you go back and check on Barbara and Phyllis.’ Winifred looked over at Delia in surprise. ‘You may be able to do something to make them more comfortable. Perhaps they’d like some water?’ 

Winifred nodded meekly before grabbing a water bottle and clambering into the back. 

Delia could hear the sounds of muffled talking. She hoped feeling useful would make Winifred feel calmer. She saw a small sign on the side of the road indicating the turnoff for the camp. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were almost there. 

Suddenly, Winifred’s panicked voice rang out from the back. 

‘Delia! Something’s wrong with Barbara! I think she’s having a seizure!’ 

‘What?’ 

‘I said I think she’s having a seizure. What do I do?’ 

‘See if Phyllis can help you, she’s a nurse.’ 

There was a brief pause before Winifred yelled up ‘Phyllis is unconscious!’ the utter panic was evident in her voice. 

‘Alright, Winnie, try and stay calm. That’s the most important thing.’ Delia quickly wracked her brain trying to remember what she’d learned about seizures in first aid. ‘She’s already lying down. Turn her on her side, and make sure there’s something soft under her head. If there’s anything sharp near her, move it away. Don’t try to hold her down. She’s going to be fine.’ 

These instructions were greeted with silence.

‘Winnie! Did you get all that? Remember, staying calm is the most important thing.’ 

‘Delia, I don’t know what I’m doing! I can’t do this alone! What if she dies?’ Winifred sounded like she was holding back tears. 

Delia saw the gates to Camp Poplar up ahead in her headlights, looking rickety and weak. Winifred’s words reverberated in her brain. Panic overtook her and her mind went completely blank. Somewhere in her brain a little voice clamoured for attention, warning her that she should stop. That barging through the gate would cause a whole host of problems. But she blocked that voice out. On the other side of that gate was help. On the other side of that gate Barbara and Phyllis would be alright. 

‘Winifred, brace yourself!’ she yelled to the back. 

She hit the accelerator.

‘What? Why? What’s happen-‘ Winifred didn’t have time to finish before the van slammed into the gate at full speed, cracking the old wood and easily cleaving the chain link fence. 

Delia felt herself be flung forward as the van came to a rather abrupt halt just inside what remained of the gate. Everything was a bit of a blur. People were yelling. She got out of the van to try to get help. She was vaguely aware of people staring at her. Suddenly a man appeared in front of her, asking why they’d broken through the gate. She was so dizzy. Her head felt fuzzy and she had trouble organizing her thoughts to explain.

‘My team,’ she managed as she sat on the ground, ‘They’re injured. They need help.’

The van was being opened. She heard a collective intake of breath. She heard someone say, ‘Redemptionists!’ She remembered their uniforms. She needed to explain. These people needed to help them, to realize she was on their side. 

‘No. There’s a misunderstanding. Not Redemptionists,’ she mumbled, wishing her voice was clearer, her mind less foggy, ‘Solidarity Bloc spies. We need your help. Please.’ 

She kept repeating the exhortation over and over, but her explanations seemed to fall on deaf ears. She heard voices discussing where to take them. Someone mentioned needing to get a Julienne. She heard footsteps running away. People kept calling them Redemptionists. She felt a bolt of irritation shoot through her. Why wouldn’t anyone listen? 

As she sat there waiting, her mind cleared considerably, and her anger grew. Barbara and Phyllis needed help. Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? 

Suddenly, she was being helped to her feet. She looked and saw Phyllis and Barbara on stretchers. Winifred was being led numbly beside her. She heard someone mention a quarantine tent. Wonderful, she thought to herself, they don’t trust us. 

Shortly after Delia entered the tent, the man returned with an older woman, who went immediately to Barbara.

‘She had a seizure in the van. 30 seconds minimum,’ Delia called over. The woman nodded in response. 

Delia turned to the man, feeling that now, with a clearer head, she could get everything sorted out quickly. 

‘So,’ he began. ‘Tell me why you felt the need to burst through my gate with your van.’ 

She took a deep breath and launched in to what would prove to be the first of several increasingly frustrating explanations.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Delia had been sitting with Winifred on the floor for what felt like hours. She wished she had some paracetamol to lessen her pounding headache. 

Two more medical staff had come in a while ago, at which point the woman she assumed was Jane had left. Delia had identified a doctor and three trained nurses. All four of them now seemed to be tending to both Barbara and Phyllis with professionalism and care. Occasionally, their voices would descend into hushed tones, and she would look over to see some of them looking in their direction. But they never approached or spoke to her. 

The man was still standing, watching her and Winifred intently. He would tense slightly every time she moved, as if he expected her to launch an unprovoked attack. She began to make sudden small movements, just to see him jump slightly every time. His consistency made it a very satisfying game. 

Finally, Julienne and the other three seemed satisfied that Barbara and Phyllis were stable. Julienne and the larger, irritated-looking nurse joined the man in a far corner of the tent, while the redhead and the doctor approached them. The doctor squatted down ungracefully in front of them, making eye contact with Winifred. 

‘Hello there, my name is Dr Noakes, and I was wondering if you would like to join me in the kitchen for a cup of Horlicks. You look quite cold sitting on the floor here, and I think it would warm you right up.’ 

Winifred looked a bit taken aback, and turned to check in with Delia. 

‘Go ahead. It’ll be fine.’ Though a bit confused herself, Delia accompanied her permission with a reassuring nod. Winifred was positively shivering with cold and a cup of warm Horlicks in a cosy kitchen tent would no doubt do a world of good. 

After watching Winifred and Dr Noakes shuffle slowly out of the tent, Delia looked up to see the redhead staring down at her, looking a bit wary. She sighed to herself, wondering why everyone seemed to find her so scary. She was about to ask this very question when the nurse spoke, her clipped accent taking Delia a bit by surprise. 

‘Alright then, now that your friends are stable, why don’t we get you patched up?’ Her voice was full of false cheer. 

Delia was confused and, quite frankly, a bit miffed. 

She spoke rapidly, getting increasingly agitated as she went. ‘Stable? If you think you’re going to get away with continuing to keep me in the dark, you are sorely mistaken. What are their injuries? What’s their prognosis? Are they going to be okay?’ She pointed to the door Winifred had just exited. ‘What was that about? Why was Winifred allowed to leave? And why on earth would I need to be patched up?’

The redhead’s expression softened slightly, and a ghost of a smile flitted across her lips. 

‘Well, that _is_ an awful lot to be kept in the dark about. Let’s see if I can help. Barbara has a fairly nasty head injury, several broken ribs, and some potential internal bleeding we want to keep an eye on. Ms Crane’s right humerus, tibia, and fibula are each broken in several places. Their long-term prognosis is excellent. They _are_ going to be okay. Julienne was concerned that, was it Winifred?’ Delia nodded. ‘That Winifred was having an acute stress response and that she should be moved out of sight of her injured friends. She was allowed to leave because she’s in shock and thus was deemed harmless. You need to be patched up because you have a wound on your head that could use cleaning. And that must be giving you one hell of a headache.’ 

Delia gaped up at her, trying to process such a glut of information. She asked the first question that popped into her head.

‘How do you know their names?’ 

‘Ms Crane regained consciousness some time ago and told us,’ was the matter-of-fact response. 

‘Is she awake now?’ Delia looked excitedly across the tent. 

‘No, she fell asleep once we administered pain medication. Speaking of which, I’m sure you’d like something for your head.’

Delia nodded and began to get up. As she hoisted herself up off of the floor she struggled to maintain her balance. She hadn’t realized how incredibly dizzy and sore she was, and her head felt like it had been hit by a hammer. She took a step forward and almost fell. The nurse stepped forward quickly and caught her, putting Delia’s arm over her shoulder for support as they made their way towards some chairs. The redhead was significantly taller than Delia, requiring her to stoop awkwardly to maintain her supportive position. Delia realized that they probably looked quite comical. 

The nurse deposited Delia on one of the chairs and fetched some alcohol, gauze and tape, paracetamol, and a stitch kit. She sat down across from Delia, gave her the pills, and wet down a cotton ball with the alcohol. 

‘I have a cut on my head that needs stitches?’ Delia glanced sceptically at the stitch kit. How could she not have noticed? She must have been in more shock than she realized. 

‘We won’t know how bad it is until I get it cleaned up a bit. Best to be prepared just in case. Hopefully we won’t need it.’ 

Delia winced as the nurse began cleaning a spot near her hairline. The redhead’s hands were surprisingly gentle, belying her gruff manner, but the alcohol stung like hell. How on earth had she gotten this cut? Suddenly she realized. 

‘This must have happened when I drove the van through the gate.’ 

‘What? Oh, the cut? That would make sense. From the location, it looks like you smacked your head against the steering wheel.’ 

Delia considered the van for a moment. She had been so concerned about Barbara and Phyllis, she hadn’t even looked at it. Between the Reapers and the gate, she wondered what state it was in. Would it ever run again? She sighed. 

‘I’ve made an absolute cock-up of everything’ Delia muttered, more to herself than anyone else, but the nurse cocked her head to the side and seemed to be considering her words intently as she continued her ministrations. After a few moments, she spoke. 

‘I don’t know about that. The story of four renegades bursting through the gate during dinner in an ancient van is going to be around the camp like wildfire. I heard that Peter was absolutely beside himself. You’ll be a legend by lunch tomorrow.’ 

There was a tiny gleam of mischief in her eye that caught Delia by surprise. 

‘A legend, huh? I suppose I could live with that.’ Delia allowed herself a small smile before furrowing her brow. ‘Is Peter that idiot’s name? He was completely obsessed with that bloody gate. He seemed convinced that we must be representatives of the High Chancellor himself the way he was going on about it.’ 

The nurse chuckled a bit at that, then raised an eyebrow and asked, ‘Why on earth _did_ you break through the gate? Surely you must have realized how it would look.’ 

Delia thought for a moment, then shrugged. ‘I guess I just panicked. Barbara was seizing in the back. Phyllis was unconscious. Winifred was terrified. I just couldn’t bring myself to stop to go through some kind of security check. I needed to get them to help, and the gate looked fairly rickety…’ She trailed off. She didn’t really have a good explanation. It had been a remarkably stupid thing to do. 

The redhead stared hard at her for a moment, before giving a small, satisfied nod. Delia felt a bit as if she’d passed some kind of test. She didn’t know why, but the thought made her unaccountably pleased. 

‘Peter’s not really an idiot, you know. He’s just a little lost without well-defined rules and a strict sense of order. He once petitioned Julienne to create a citation system so he could give Trixie a ticket for parking an old Peugeot she was repairing right inside the gate. You crashing through that gate must have thrown him for quite the loop. He probably thinks you should be jailed for that alone.’ 

Delia genuinely laughed at that, causing the redhead to tut at her, ‘Hold still, you’re going to make me open this cut further.’ But the mirth in her voice belied the sternness of her words, and Delia thought she noticed the nurse’s face turning just the slightest bit red. Delia took a moment to really look at the nurse as she returned her attention to Delia’s forehead. She really was strikingly beautiful. With impossibly perfect cheekbones, and her eyes…

Delia realized she was staring, and gave a little cough, adjusting slightly. Hopefully the nurse hadn’t noticed. She began talking, largely to distract herself. 

‘Yes, well, I don’t think any of you really know what to do with us. Are we spies? Enemies? Enemy spies? I somewhat suspect Peter thinks I’m the evil double-agent reincarnation of James Bond, come with a 1980s van to wreak havoc on Camp Poplar.’ 

This earned a laugh as the redhead put the last bit of tape on Delia’s forehead and made a small, satisfied noise. 

‘There, you’re all patched up now. And we didn’t even need the stitch kit! I had better go back and check in with everyone.’ 

The nurse moved to get up, but Delia reached out and put a hand lightly on her arm, stopping her. The redhead tensed slightly and looked at it warily. Delia removed her hand and spoke quickly. 

‘Before you left, I just wanted to say thank you. For taking such good care of my team.’ 

The nurse exhaled, tension released. She smiled slightly. ‘It’s our job. There’s no need for thanks.’ 

‘I’m glad Phyllis told you their names.’ The words rushed out, and Delia felt foolish as soon as she had said them. The nurse shot her a quizzical look. Delia continued, ‘I assumed you hadn’t asked because you didn’t care. Because you thought we were the enemy, so you were just going to provide the most basic services and then move on. Because you didn’t think they really deserved care.’ 

A look of guilt flashed across the nurse’s face, and she looked away for a moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked Delia right in the eye. Delia was a little taken aback by the way her heart skipped. 

‘I’m sorry you were made to feel that way. It’s just been a very…stressful day,’ the redhead broke eye contact and looked down at her hands. ‘Emotions were running high. We didn’t, and still don’t really, know who you were, but that doesn’t excuse making you feel as though your friends weren’t receiving the very best of care. That must have been extremely frustrating. I’m sorry.’

Delia was a little shocked by her candour. She was thinking about how to respond when the redhead stood up purposefully, took a breath, and shook out her arms slightly, signalling an end to the more serious turn the conversation had taken. 

‘And with that in mind, I realize I’ve been quite rude in not asking you your name. I _have_ always been told I have a rather brusque bedside manner.’ 

Delia smiled and extended her hand, ‘I’m Delia. Delia Busby. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you as well maybe spy, maybe enemy, maybe enemy-spy Delia Busby.’ The nurse reached out and shook Delia’s hand with a small smirk, then turned and went towards her fellow camp workers clustered in a corner. 

Delia felt a small pang of sadness as the nurse moved away.

‘Wait, you can’t just leave and not introduce yourself. Especially after patching me up. Haven’t you been told that’s bad bedside manner?’ 

The nurse turned with an amused smile.

‘My name is Nurse Mount.’ She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, then added, ‘Patsy.’

Delia gulped as she watched her walk away, feeling the butterflies that had been flitting happily in her stomach turn into a ball of anxiety. _This_ was Patience Mount. Crap. Carrying out Plan B had suddenly gotten much more complicated.


	3. Julienne

For the last few moments, Julienne’s attention had wandered from Peter and Evangelina, as she had been distracted by the interaction between Patsy and the small Welsh woman. She had heard the woman call out to Patsy and watched as she reacted to learning Patsy’s name. Watched her visibly tense for a brief moment before catching herself, a look of…was it guilt? apprehension?...flitting across her face. Julienne filed the reaction away in her mind.

She directed her attention at Patsy, who had made her way across the tent to them. 

‘How is her head wound, Nurse Mount?’ 

‘Superficial’ was the matter-of-fact response. Julienne smiled to herself. The more that was going on in Patsy’s head, the less she said. She wondered what the young nurse was preoccupied by at the moment. 

‘That’s wonderful. I would like to have a chance to speak with her, but I think that for now it would be best to let everyone have a bit of rest.’

Evangelina harrumphed, ‘I’m not sure how much help chatting with her is going to be, from what Mr Noakes has described. And if they _are_ Redemptionists, we’re only going to get more lies.’ 

‘I don’t think they’re Redemptionists.’ Patsy’s entry into the conversation caught Julienne a little off guard. The redhead was usually wary of speaking up in debates like these, unless it was to support someone else’s view. Julienne was curious. 

‘What leads you to that conclusion, Nurse Mount?’ 

‘There’s something about the way she spoke about needing to get her friends to medical care. There was just so much more…compassion there than I’ve come to expect from Redemptionists.’ 

Julienne responded carefully, knowing that conversing with Patsy about Redemptionists required treading lightly. ‘Even those who fight on the side of fear and hatred can show true caring for those they are closest to, Nurse Mount. While they dehumanize others, they are still humans themselves.’ 

Evangelina added gruffly, ‘And she’s young enough to have been in an indoctrination camp since childhood. Who knows what kind of brainwashing she’s received.’

Julienne held her breath as she saw Patsy blanche slightly. She reminded herself that Evangelina couldn’t be blamed for failing to be sensitive to a personal history she didn’t know. She watched the young nurse set her jaw, a flash of anger in her eyes. Patsy’s words, when they came, had a distinct edge to them. 

‘I don’t know what relevance any supposed brainwashing would have to her compassion, Evangelina. Besides, Ms Crane is old enough to have been more than a child before the Reckoning, and I would make the same argument about her and her concern for her team.’ 

Julienne, realizing her own words had undoubtedly been overshadowed by Evangelina’s, decided it was wise to intervene. 

‘I think that we’ve all had a long and extremely taxing day. I suggest that everyone rest now. I will interview the young Welsh woman in my office in the morning.’

‘Her name is Delia Busby.’ Patsy’s tone remained cold, but now there was an additional hint of insubordination. ‘Addressing her by name would undoubtedly assist in any attempt to garner information.’

‘Watch your tone, Nurse Mount.’ Evangelina’s voice expressed her unvarnished irritation. ‘Not all of us are inclined to trust someone just because they have kind eyes and a pretty face.’ 

Patsy inhaled sharply, her entire body tensing. For a moment, Julienne was concerned that the young nurse might actually lose her temper. But her breeding and self control won out. Nevertheless, her words were dripping with barely-contained rage.

‘I didn’t say that I trusted her, Evangelina. I said that I didn’t think she was a Redemptionist. Please refrain from questioning my ability to make objective judgments simply because _I_ am not inclined to always view anything new as inherently dangerous and worthy of disdain.’ 

And with that she turned and walked purposefully out of the tent. 

Evangelina opened her mouth to speak, but Julienne held up her hand, ‘Please, Evangelina. We are all extremely tired and tensions are high. Let’s get some food and rest. We can renew this discussion in the morning, when our minds and spirits are refreshed.’ 

Evangelina looked perturbed but nodded and left the tent. Julienne watched her go, wondering how much longer her tiny medical team could hold out. They were so overworked, and the now almost daily dropping of incendiaries ensured no one ever had enough sleep. She felt as if the entire team were teetering on the edge of collapse, with the exception perhaps of the remarkably unflappable Dr Noakes. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that today had been particularly stressful. Everything would look more hopeful after a good night’s sleep. 

A quiet voice brought her out of her thoughts.

‘Excuse me, I hate to disturb, but could I possibly have a little bit of food and something to drink? I have some supplies in the van, but I’m guessing you don’t want me heading there to scavenge for them, being as I’m technically a prisoner.’

Julienne felt a pang of guilt as she turned to face Delia, who must have been ravenous.

‘Yes, of course, I will have some dinner brought to you. And your fourth team member will be rejoining you shortly, if Dr Noakes feels she is well enough. There will be someone here all night to fetch us if Barbara or Ms Crane need urgent medical attention.’ 

The brunette nodded at this, looking relieved. 

Julienne continued, ‘Mr Noakes will bring you to my office in the morning, where we can discuss more details of how you came to arrive at our camp in such an unusually ceremonious manner.’ 

‘I look forward to that, Julienne. Good night.’ 

It wasn’t until she had left the tent that Julienne realized Delia had referred to her by name. Despite her head injury, the young woman must have been paying close attention to the goings-on in the tent. She wondered how much of their conversation she had overheard; chided herself for not leaving the tent before discussing such matters. Julienne realized she needed to be much more careful now that she had suddenly been thrust into the world of espionage. 

_________________________________________

Julienne considered the story she had just heard as she regarded Delia carefully across her desk. The diminutive Welshwoman was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, her head held high and a look of defiance etched on her features. It was as if she was daring Julienne to doubt her. Which, if she was honest, Julienne didn’t. While she had no doubt that this woman in front of her was a capable and competent operative, she guessed that she was rarely given assignments that called for outright deceit. Her expressions were far too open, her face effortlessly betraying her emotions.

No, she was sure that the tale she had heard of car chases and Reapers was the truth. And she even believed Delia’s explanation for why she had driven her van directly through the camp’s gates, as the panic she had felt the night before crept back into her eyes as she relayed the story. But there was a niggling doubt in Julienne’s mind. Something that just didn’t sit right. 

‘Thank you Ms Busby for taking the time to relay your story. Would you mind clarifying why you came to this camp in particular? As far as I know, we are quite far from any Redemptionist compounds. Have they begun building this far north?’ 

‘No, they haven’t,’ Delia assured. ‘When the Reapers attacked the van, I had to turn on the beacon early, while the Redemptionists were still scanning. Because they had been able to detect us, I had to use evasive maneuvers and weave my way north. By the time I was sure I had lost them, Camp Poplar had become the closest medical facility, so I came here.’ 

It was a perfectly logical explanation. And Julienne would have been inclined to believe it had her interviewee’s demeanor not changed almost imperceptibly. But Julienne was too adept at reading people to fail to notice how Delia shifted slightly in her seat, how she became marginally less comfortable making eye contact, how her breathing became incrementally more rapid. Julienne had been correct in her assessment that the Welsh woman was not a very good liar. Though Delia’s normally expressive face had closed more effectively than Julienne had expected. She suspected that Delia could be quite convincing to an untrained eye. 

Julienne decided not to draw attention to the young woman’s deceit. She had other information she needed, and Delia would undoubtedly become significantly more guarded if she knew she wasn’t being believed. Lying obviously unnerved her, and Julienne needed the young woman to feel comfortable.

Julienne saw a flash of uncertainty in the young woman’s eyes and realized she had taken too long to respond. Delia’s suspicion was aroused. She silently berated herself for always taking so long to consider things before she responded. Delia was not a scared refugee; she was a highly trained operative. Julienne realized she needed to treat this conversation like the chess match it was. 

‘Thank you, Ms Busby. That explanation certainly seems plausible.’ 

Delia tensed ever so slightly at the word ‘plausible’. Julienne took note and made her move.

‘Now, would you mind telling me what kind of work you were doing in the compound?’ 

Delia obviously hadn’t expected that. She hesitated. 

‘I’m not really at liberty to share that information. The content of our missions is highly classified.’ 

‘Ms Busby, I take my job as director here very seriously. If I’m going to have you and your team wandering my camp, I need to know I can trust you, or else I’m not willing to take that security risk. Trust is a two-way street. If you don’t feel you can trust me, I’m not sure how I can trust you.’ 

Julienne sat back and watched Delia consider her words. This was a very risky gambit. She knew she had no right to ask for classified information. Delia could easily call her bluff; threaten to report her to HQ. But by the time things worked their way through the chain of command, Julienne could have already had the team transferred north of the border. In reality, she was loath to transport two people as injured as Barbara and Ms Crane, but Delia didn’t know that.

Uncertainty and discomfort radiated off of the small woman. Julienne could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she considered her options. Finally, Delia let out a small sigh. She spoke slowly, obviously choosing each word very intentionally. 

‘I’m truly not at liberty to divulge specifics, but I will tell you that our mission involves the Reaper project. We’ve known for some time that the High Chancellor is livid over the development and distribution of mobile beacons. It negates the efficacy of cities as de-facto prisons.’

Julienne nodded and cocked her head to the side, making it clear she expected Delia to continue. So far the spy hadn’t revealed anything that Julienne didn’t already know. She was not getting off that easily. 

Delia sighed and reluctantly pressed on, ‘We recently learned the Council has ordered the development of a new breed of Reapers that aren’t repelled by beacons but instead by a repellent system whose distribution they can closely regulate. We were at a research compound trying to gather more information. And that’s truly all I can say.’ 

Julienne sighed. Delia’s response had confirmed her concerns. The young spy was intent enough on being allowed to remain in camp to divulge classified information. She needed time to consider what to do. 

‘Thank you very much for trusting me, Ms Busby. Mr Noakes will escort you back to the quarantine tent. I will be there shortly to check in on your friends and inform you of my decision.’ 

Delia nodded and stood. She still looked a little uncomfortable, and Julienne suspected that the young woman knew she had been bested. 

‘Thank you, Julienne. I look forward to being as helpful as possible during my time here. Perhaps I can help repair the gate as a form of apology. For poor Mr Noakes if no one else.’ Delia flashed a cheeky grin to accompany the last sentence.

Julienne smiled to herself as she watched the door to her tent close behind Delia. What the young woman lacked in the skills of deception, she certainly made up for in gumption and charm.  
_____________________________

Julienne was making her way across camp to the quarantine tent when Trixie’s voice rang out. 

‘Julienne! Look at who decided to grace us with her presence this morning! Our very own wandering solo spy.’

Julienne turned, her gaze taking in the small, thin woman smiling broadly next to an obviously delighted Trixie. 

‘Mary Cynthia,’ Julienne smiled. ‘It’s wonderful to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?’ 

‘I've just completed a mission and thought I’d take a little Pennine vacation at my favorite camp on the way up to HQ.’ 

‘I was just telling Mary Cynthia about our mysterious visitors.’ Trixie’s eyes glinted with mirth. ‘Isn’t it just perfect that we have our own certified spy here to vouch for them? Or to reveal them as traitors!’ Trixie gestured dramatically and laughed. 

Julienne smiled at the blonde nurse, truly glad to see Trixie so relaxed. But just below the surface, she was alarmed. Mary Cynthia appearing today, so close on the heels of last night’s surprise arrivals, seemed too fortunate to be a coincidence. 

‘In fact, I was headed to see our new guests. Why don’t you join us to see if you recognize them?’

‘I would love to.’ 

As the three of them ambled towards the tent, Julienne realized that she’d been so preoccupied she’d forgotten the previous day’s other surprise. 

‘Nurse Franklin, I’ve been remiss in not asking about Constance. How is she?’

‘Both mother and baby are doing quite well. We weren’t able to save her leg, unfortunately, but the antidote did prevent total infection. Dr Noakes wants to get the baby away from the dangers of camp, so they’re due to be transferred out on the next delivery truck.’ 

Julienne nodded in satisfaction. ‘That’s wonderful to hear, and sounds like an excellent plan.’ 

The three of them entered the quarantine tent to find Delia and Winifred sitting on a bed playing cat’s cradle with what looked like flexible first aid tape that had been rolled lengthwise into something approximating a string. Delia looked up at them and broke into a broad grin upon seeing Mary Cynthia. 

‘Well, look what the cat dragged in! If it isn’t the spy-savant herself!’ 

‘Hello to you too, Delia.’ Mary Cynthia returned the smile. ‘There’s been a great deal of concern since you four dropped off the radar after fleeing the compound last night. HQ will be relieved to hear you’ve turned up.’ 

‘Then I take it they are real life Solidarity Bloc spies?’ Trixie interrupted, an eyebrow raised. 

‘Not just any Bloc spies, Trixie. You are in the presence of the famous Quartet. They have the most successfully completed missions at the agency. Prevented an assassination during the Chesterfield talks. Famously stole the original Reaper virus.’ 

‘Don’t forget singlehandedly ensured victory in the Battle of Huddersfield,’ Delia’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she hopped off the bed and wrapped Mary Cynthia in a warm embrace. 

‘How glamorous!’

‘Very little of the work is glamorous, Trixie.’ Mary Cynthia turned back to Delia, ‘You should know we’ve all been called to stand down until we can figure out how your cover was blown at the compound.’ She nodded towards where Barbara and Ms Crane lay on beds, ‘I take it there were injuries?’ 

Delia’s face fell as she nodded. 

Julienne felt like this was an opportune time to join the conversation, ‘They do have some moderately severe injuries, but Dr Noakes is confident they’ll both have a full recovery.’ 

‘Well they’re not needed anywhere anytime soon, so they should be able to take the time to heal up here, if you’re amenable.’ Mary Cynthia directed this final statement towards Julienne. 

Despite her wariness, Julienne had to agree that, given the nature of the injuries, it was best if the pair healed in situ. 

‘Of course.’ 

‘So, our little celebrity visit will be an extended one.’ Trixie couldn’t hide her delight. ‘And we’re not under attack from a horde of enemy double agents! Isn’t that a relief, Julienne?’ 

Julienne smiled and nodded, but she felt no relief. Delia had been too willing to divulge classified details of her mission. Cynthia’s sudden arrival had been too coincidental. 

No, Julienne could tell there was more going on here. There was a reason the Quartet had come to Camp Poplar. A reason Cynthia had arrived the next day with a handy excuse for them to stay. Someone somewhere wanted the Bloc’s premier spy team here, watching. 

Julienne considered all of the workers at Camp Poplar to be her family, and she knew now that she would have to be constantly vigilant. Greater forces had taken an interest in those she loved, and she would need to have her wits about her to protect them all.


	4. Patsy

Patsy was lying in her camp bed staring at the ceiling and unwinding when Trixie bustled into the small tent they shared. 

‘Well, you certainly can’t say our guests haven’t livened up this place, though not necessarily all for the better.’ 

‘Oh no, what has Nurse Crane done this time?’ 

Patsy turned on her side to hear the answer. It had been a week since the sudden arrival of their temporary campmates, and it was certainly true that things were livelier. Unfortunately, this was largely because Evangelina and Nurse Crane had been bickering with each other constantly for the last several days. 

Trixie plopped down on her bed and began untying her boots. ‘She’s moved on to suggesting changes to the entire refugee check-in system…altering the books, adjusting the paperwork. She lectured Shelagh for a full 15 minutes on the importance of optimizing both security and efficiency. Then Evangelina came in and began pontificating on the merits of the current system. It’s the closest I’ve ever seen Shelagh to losing her temper.’

‘Oh dear.’

Slippers on, Trixie made her way over to the bureau to her toiletries ‘Shelagh eventually distracted them by suggesting they go work on making your stock-taking systems more efficient.’ 

Patsy sat bolt upright. 

‘She wouldn’t! I know we have our rivalry, but she would never!’ She immediately began to imagine all of the work she would have to do to reorganize her meticulously maintained administrative systems. 

Trixie glanced back over her shoulder at Patsy, her eyes glinting with mirth as a grin spread across her face. 

‘Of _course_ she wouldn’t, Patsy. You are so delightfully easy to wind up.’ 

Patsy exhaled, any irritation she might have felt towards Trixie quickly overshadowed by a palpable sense of relief. 

‘Trixie, you nearly gave me a heart attack.’ 

Trixie’s smirk faded into a thoughtful expression as she began to apply a mud mask to her face. 

‘I do wish that Delia and Winifred were a little less brilliant. Nurse Crane would be so much more manageable if she weren’t mobile.’ 

Patsy smiled at this. Three days ago, Delia and Winifred had scoured camp and taken a chair, two bicycle wheels, three car batteries, some jumper cables, and assorted bits of metal into an unused tent, emerging several hours later with a fully functioning electric wheelchair. Nurse Crane had been zipping around ever since, managing to terrorize almost everyone with never-ending suggestions on improving camp procedures. 

‘I’m sure they were tired of having her confined in the tent with them. Did we ever figure out how they managed to create that monstrosity?’ 

‘Apparently, Delia used the batteries, jumper cables and a welding iron of Barbara’s to create an arc welder. And Winifred provided the electronics expertise using supplies they had in the van. According to Delia, she’s something of a savant. The whole escapade was made more ridiculous by the fact that apparently Barbara has a portable welder. They just didn’t want to use it because she hadn’t woken up yet and they had the ridiculous notion using it would jinx her recovery.’ 

‘Well, she _did_ wake up the next day, so there might be something to that.’ 

Trixie let out a truncated laugh, ‘Don’t tell me _you’re_ going to start in with that superstitious nonsense. Personally, I’m livid I wasn’t informed there was a welder on the premises. I’ve been trying to get one for years.’ This final sentence was accompanied by a jokingly accusatory look shot in Patsy’s direction. 

Patsy feigned consternation, ‘Trixie, you very well know that I can’t _make_ HQ send anything. And Fred hasn’t been able to get his hands on one. You know how valuable construction tools are.’ 

‘Nevertheless, I think I’m going to start relying on Delia instead of you to get all of my specialized supplies. If it weren’t for her, I never would have gotten my new foam roll mat. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to have to lie on the cold, hard ground whenever I need to work on the underside of a car?’ 

Patsy rolled her eyes. Trixie’s old foam mat had recently worn through, and the new one she had specially requested had arrived on the day Patsy’s presence at the delivery had been preempted by Constance’s arrival. Shelagh had taken it and refused to give it back, claiming that it was necessary for the comfort of elderly and infirm refugees. HQ had refused to send another one because they claimed the order was filled and they couldn’t make a habit of sending luxury items on a whim. 

Apparently, Trixie had vented about this to Delia who had then approached Shelagh with a sob story about how Barbara’s discomfort could be eased by having a softer bed. Shelagh, concerned about Barbara’s wellbeing, had relinquished the camping mat immediately. Delia subsequently delivered it to Trixie, who had been singing her praises ever since. 

Patsy was torn about the incident, as she was tickled any time Shelagh was outwitted, but was also a little perturbed that Delia was getting so much credit for what seemed to Patsy like cheating. 

‘Be careful not to bite the hand that feeds you, Trixie.’ Patsy shot her roommate one of her patented half-smiles, ‘Don’t forget who got you that mud mask.’ 

Trixie eyes twinkled but her words came out somewhat muffled, as she tried kept her face perfectly still so as not to disturb the mask.

‘Duly noted, Nurse Mount. You do have to admit, though, while Nurse Crane is a terror and Winifred is a little…odd, Delia is nothing but delightful. Even Evangelina seems a little softer around her.’ 

Patsy lay back down, hoping that the movement would hide the slight bit of hurt in her voice. ‘I keep hearing about the many charms of Delia, but I actually haven’t seen her at all in the last week. I get the distinct impression that she’s avoiding me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Patsy. She just hasn’t had much reason to interact with you. The only reason I’ve seen so much of her is that we’ve been working on that ancient van of hers.’ And with that, Trixie flopped down on her bed to let the mask set a bit. 

‘I suppose.’ 

But Patsy had a feeling that it was more than that. She had a strong suspicion that the woman who had managed to so easily charm almost everyone else was actively steering clear of her. 

_______________________

Patsy’s suspicions were confirmed the next day when she was taking stock in the non-medical supply closet and noticed that a pad of paper was missing. She recalled seeing Winifred wandering around camp drawing on a fresh writing pad. Fairly certain that Winifred wouldn’t have snuck in to pilfer supplies, Patsy assumed that Delia was the culprit. 

She heard footsteps approaching and a soft Welsh voice sounded tentatively from outside the canvas flap. 

‘Knock knock.’ 

Speak of the devil, Patsy thought to herself. 

‘Come in.’ 

‘Hello.’ Delia’s voice was cheerful enough, but there was an awkwardness about her that hadn’t been there the night she arrived. Patsy wondered if she had been too forward when cleaning her wound. Delia had seemed to be playing along, but perhaps Patsy had overstepped and seemed unprofessional. Patsy decided that now wasn’t the time to be worrying about such things. She had business to attend to with the brunette. 

‘Have you come to explain yourself and apologize?’ 

Delia’s look was one of utter confusion that immediately shifted to guilt when Patsy pointed to the writing pads on the shelf. She looked down at the floor and mumbled.

‘Winifred is just so much happier when she has the ability to draw.’ 

Patsy took in the normally self-assured woman in front of her who currently looked a bit like a puppy who had been caught rooting through the bin. In spite of herself, Patsy found it rather adorable.

‘That may be, but I’m certain that Julienne informed you that if you need anything from stock, you’re to check with me. It’s hard enough to keep track of everything without worrying about it being pilfered by people who only needed to ask.’ 

Delia still looked contrite, ‘I suppose that after so long working with Phyllis I’ve gotten used to asking for forgiveness rather than permission. It saves me the upfront explanation of all the many ways I could do it better.’ 

Patsy didn’t for one moment believe that was the whole story, but decided not to push. 

‘And do you usually get it?’

‘What?’

‘Forgiveness.’ 

‘Oh.’ A faint smile appeared on the corner of Delia’s lips. ‘Usually.’ 

Patsy squinted her eyes and nodded, ‘Hmmm. I suspected as much. Nurse Crane does seem like a bit of a softie.’ 

Delia’s face lit up as she laughed, and Patsy hoped that her face wasn’t betraying her by blushing. 

She continued, ‘Well, I fear that you’ll find that I’m not as forgiving. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to insist that you pay a penance.’ 

A look of surprise flitted across Delia’s face before it was replaced by a combination of curiosity and pure mischief. The awkwardness that had been present at the beginning of the conversation was nowhere to be seen. 

‘And what kind of penance did you have in mind, Nurse Mount?’ 

Patsy was now 100% sure that she was blushing. She pressed on, intent that Delia would not see her flustered. 

‘Well, as you know I’m quite busy, having to both nurse and carry out logistical and administrative work. Nurse Crane will lighten the nursing load as soon as she has the use of her arm, but until then you’re going to help me with my other duties.’ 

‘You want me to help you organize stock rooms?’ Delia looked a bit panicked.

‘No. I’m very…particular…about organization.’

Delia visibly relaxed. 

‘I have something else in mind. Every day as part of my duties I check in with people to see if they require any special supplies or have issues that need resolving. Trixie for automotive, Dr Noakes for medical, Monica Joan for food, Evangelina for security and weaponry. Given that you’ve got the entire camp talking about your charms and you seem to be quite adept at problem solving, I think that you can safely take over those duties. You’ll just have to check in with me daily so that I can order whatever’s needed and keep abreast of any issues that come up.’ 

Delia looked amused. ‘And do I have a say in this arrangement?’ 

‘That depends. We can either reach a friendly agreement here, or I can tell Julienne that you’ve been stealing supplies…pads of paper, sweets, packets of kirby grips. You’re welcome to take your chances with her, but I think you’ll find that her punishment won’t be anywhere near as lenient.’ 

Delia sported a look of mock astonishment, her eyes twinkling. ‘Blackmail! Nurse Mount, you dark horse. Well, you certainly didn’t lie about being particular. Who notices a missing packet of kirby grips?’ 

‘When it comes to my stock rooms, Ms Busby, I notice _everything_. Now, what’s your decision? Will we be working together, or will I be talking to Julienne?’ 

Delia cocked her head to the side and seemed to be considering her options. Patsy tried to keep her breathing even and not show her nervousness. She had to admit, going toe-to-toe with a real-life spy was quite a thrill. Before the conversation started, she hadn’t even been sure she was going to go through with her threat, but then Delia had laughed and Patsy realized that she didn’t want weeks and weeks of the Welshwoman avoiding her. The two times she had been around Delia had felt fun and…warm, she supposed, and while light blackmail might be a bit rash, she found that being around Delia made her do and say all sorts of things she normally wouldn’t. No, she had decided to _make_ the brunette stop avoiding her. That and she could really use the help. 

Finally, Delia gave a resolute nod, ‘I accept your proposal. But only because you said everyone was talking about my charms and I’m unable to resist a good ego massage.’

Patsy smiled. ‘Excellent. You can start tomorrow.’ 

The brunette shook her head. ‘That I _can’t_ accept. Tomorrow is the big welcome dinner in honor of Barbara feeling better, and I’m going to be making cawl and some Welsh cakes. I’ll be in the kitchen all day.’ 

‘Oh yes, Julienne told me about that. She said she’d given you special permission to use the lamb from cold storage.’

‘Yes, well, that’s actually why I’m here.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Your confidence in my charms may be misplaced. Monica Joan won’t let me into the food tent. She keeps going on about lambs and Earth’s immeasurable surprise.’

‘Ah yes, Monica Joan sometimes has difficulty with change. I’d wager she’s quoting poetry. Maybe Larkin? She does seem to reference him when she’s feeling perturbed.’ 

Delia looked confused, ‘Thanks…but that wasn’t really what I was asking.’ 

Patsy laughed, ‘I know. I’ll talk to her and make sure you have full access to all of the leeks and potatoes your heart desires.’

Delia broke out into a broad smile. ‘Excellent! And then the day after tomorrow, my punishment commences!’ She turned and took a few steps towards the exit of the storage room before turning back. ‘And Patsy?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s hard enough to get adjusted to the workings of a new camp without being blackmailed into helping by people who only needed to ask.’ 

There was warmth underneath Delia’s smirk that made Patsy’s heart beat a little faster. She realized that she would be content with having her words thrown back at her a thousand times over if it meant getting to spend more time with Delia Busby. 

________________________

‘…so then, right on cue, Winifred shuts down the power, and Phyllis tackles the ambassador. But the assassin has moved, so Barbara is left on her own, wearing the most ridiculous waitress get-up, with only a tray of shrimp canapés at her disposal to subdue him!’ 

‘Now Delia, you _know_ that’s not true. I also had an extendable baton in my pants.’ 

For most of the dinner, everyone had been kept in fits of laughter by Delia’s tall tales of espionage, which were punctuated by Barbara’s earnest but equally hilarious attempts to reign in her more ebullient teammate’s hyperbole. 

Barbara’s obliviousness to this latest double entendre was simply too much for Trixie to handle, and the blonde had tears of laughter streaming down her face as she asked, ‘Barbara, do you often go out into the field with an extendable baton in your pants?’

‘Well, generally I’d prefer something with a bit more firepower, but it can be so hard to get larger weaponry to fit realistically into a pair of women’s slacks.’ 

Trixie almost choked on the water she was drinking. 

Patsy’s stomach was pleasantly full of delicious cawl, cakes, and a salad of early spring greens and pea shoots that Monica Joan had prepared from her garden’s bounty. As she looked around the table at the laughing faces of her friends, she realized that this moment was perhaps the most content she’d ever been. 

Chummy’s voice brought her out of her momentary torpor, ‘Well, it all sounds like a bit too much excitement for me. Plus, I much prefer healing wounds to inflicting them…though I suppose I could make an exception if it were a nefarious assassin and my weapon was shrimp. I don’t think there would be too much irreversible damage.’

‘You would be surprised, Dr Noakes. Barbara’s capable of some truly terrifying things. Anyway, here you have your own kind of excitement. Throngs of refugees. Fleets of incendiaries. And you aide workers are much wilier that you appear…I wouldn’t be surprised if there were all kinds of machinations going on behind the scenes.’ Delia’s final statement was accompanied by a pointed look in her direction, which Patsy did her best to ignore. She hoped no one else had noticed. 

Trixie saved Patsy from any further scrutiny, ‘Oh please, Delia. Our excitement is simply exhausting. Yours is thrilling. Speaking of which, you haven’t told us about stealing the original Reaper virus. That must have been quite a caper.’

Nurse Crane’s voice rang out, ‘I think we’ve had plenty of tall tales for one evening. Surely a table of educated women can think of some other topics for discussion.’ 

Trixie was peeved, ‘But Phyllis, we have plenty of opportunities to discuss _other topics_ almost any day of the year. You four are only here for a short while.’ 

‘Ahem!’ Nurse Crane’s was giving Trixie a menacing stare. 

‘I’m sorry, _Nurse Crane_. Though it doesn’t seem entirely fair. If the three of them are allowed to call you Phyllis, why can’t I?’ 

Nurse Crane’s tone was cutting, ‘Nurse Franklin, when you have risked your own life and limb so save mine, you will have earned the right to call me Phyllis. But until then, as long as I am in this camp working in some capacity as a nurse, you will address me as Nurse Crane.’ 

Trixie made a small, irritated noise but conceded. There were a few moments of awkward silence before Trixie, obviously not willing to abandon the topic of their four guests, directed her attention towards the teammate none of them had truly gotten to speak to.

‘So, Barbara, we know that Winifred brings the computer know-how, Delia is the MacGyver, and Phyllis is the brawn’ – Phyllis made a small huffing noise as she shifted in her wheelchair, but otherwise remained silent – ‘what skills do you bring to the super team?’

Barbara considered this for a moment, ‘Well, mainly I think I bring a desire to follow orders as thoroughly and effectively as possible.’ 

Delia looked affronted and playfully swatted Barbara’s shoulder, ‘Don’t sell yourself short!’ She turned to address the table. ‘Her sweet demeanor lulls people into a false sense of security, making her a phenomenal spy. Also, she’s a top-notch welder and blacksmith. If you need magic worked with metal, she’s your girl.’ 

‘A blacksmith! How useful!’ Chummy interjected, ‘I’ve always said it’s the quiet ones that surprise you with their love of heat and flame and danger. Take Jane; quiet as a mouse, so you’d never guess she dealt with explosives.’

‘Really, explosives?’ Barbara was shocked, ‘Do you often have much need for those in camp?’ 

Jane looked down and spoke excruciatingly softly, ‘It’s more of a hobby, really. I don’t use the skills much.’ 

‘It seems like skills such as yours could be put to great use in securing the perimeter of this camp. I have noticed a lack of attention to perimeter security here. I’ve been meaning to discuss some ideas I have for its improvement.’ 

Patsy watched with trepidation as Evangelina’s face slowly filled with rage over the course of Nurse Crane’s short speech. The entire table was mercifully saved from an explosion by Julienne’s intercession. 

‘Your expertise is always welcome, Nurse Crane, though perhaps not at this very moment. Our lives have so few moments of rest, and we prefer not to fill them with thoughts of work. Especially when we are lucky enough to have so many of us present around the table this evening. Let’s now focus on enjoying the company of friends.’ 

Nurse Crane nodded her understanding. 

Trixie broke the ice, ‘Well Barbara, I for one am thrilled to hear about your welding expertise. I have what feels like a whole fleet of vehicles that could use a little welding on their axles or frames.’ 

‘Oh yes, I’d be happy to help. Delia tells me you’re a cracking mechanic.’

Trixie smiled in obvious pleasure, ‘Well, we here at Camp Poplar also have a plethora of skills. We’re not just our medical expertise.’

Barbara looked down, ‘Well I for one must say that I really am extremely glad _for_ that medical expertise. If it weren’t for all of you I probably wouldn’t be alive. I don’t know if I could ever express how grateful I am.’

‘That’s easy, by welding for me.’ Trixie replied with a laugh. ‘Though I must say, I am a bit curious about how you two got those ghastly injuries.’ 

The demeanor of the four women shifted markedly. Winifred’s contented smile fell. Nurse Crane’s gaze wandered to the table. Barbara looked a bit ill. Even Delia’s enthusiasm was suddenly stifled, and she looked almost haunted. Patsy recognized those looks, and her heart ached to help the four of them, but she had no idea what to do or say. Luckily, Julienne did. 

‘Nurse Franklin, I’m sure if they wish to share that information, they can do so in their own time. I would also issue the same reminder that this shared table should be a joyous space. Perhaps we could discuss something a bit happier.’ 

Delia perked up at this, ‘I know! Let’s do ‘Before the Reckoning!’’ 

Winifred let out a little groan, ‘Not again, Delia. Can’t we do something different?’

‘Come on Winifred, it’s a great icebreaker.’ Delia addressed the table, ‘You simply say what small and frivolous thing you miss from before the Reckoning. Nothing too meaty or sad. I’ll go first. I miss swimming. Obviously, I was extremely young before the Reckoning, but my mam and tad would take me every summer to Barafundle Bay and I used to love just playing in the water without a care in the world.’

Patsy felt a wave of panic grip her. She had been so content in the present. Why did she have to think back to before the Reckoning? Her mind raced, simultaneously trying to think of something insipid to say while crushing the surge of memories that were coming flooding in unbidden. 

Delia looked around eagerly waiting for someone else to share, but everyone seemed hesitant. 

The table was completely shocked when Monica Joan’s voice rang out, as she had spent most of the meal looking dubiously at Delia. 

‘I see no reason to fear discussing the small joys of the past, for in those come hope for the future. And hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all. These are the words of Emily Dickinson, who few know was as accomplished a baker as she was a poet. And, as I suppose she would have, I do so dearly miss baked delicacies. Especially cakes, for while those prepared by griddle have their merits, they miss a certain something for not having been enrobed in the warming embrace of the oven.’ 

Delia gave the elderly woman a look of gratitude, ‘Thank you Monica Joan. That was lovely.’ 

‘I can’t promise the same level of eloquence, but I miss shops.’ Chummy continued when Trixie shot her a perplexed look. ‘Well, not the shops themselves so much as the act of shopping. Going in and looking at the variety of goods on offer, _choosing_ what I want to eat or wear or read. I would never have expected to miss it, but I do.’ 

‘Well I miss babies!’ Several people around the table snickered at Evangelina’s unexpected choice. ‘Laugh all you want, but there was always something heartwarming about a family fawning over a newborn. So much hope and joy and love in such a little package.’

‘I too miss the joy of simple new beginnings. Babies being born. Young people falling easily in love. Marriage between a love-struck pair. Today all decisions seem rushed and fraught, as if people fear that time is running out, but in rushing they deny themselves joy in the time they do have.’

‘Small and frivolous, Julienne!’ Delia chided softly. 

Julienne gave a small smile, ‘Forgive me. Then I would say flowers. I miss having fresh-cut flowers.’ 

‘There we go! That’s more like it. Who’s next?’ 

‘I miss the possibility of travel.’ Nurse Crane sounded almost wistful. ‘I used to study Spanish in the hopes of enriching my travels, but there doesn’t seem much purpose now.’ 

‘That’s a new one Phyllis! I’m impressed!’ Delia seemed a little shocked as she addressed the table, ‘She usually says she misses her car.’ 

‘Well mine is going to stay the same as always. I miss sweets. Candies and lollies and chocolates.’ Barbara sighed. ‘If I’d been an adult before the Reckoning, I think I would have had sweets with every single meal.’ 

Delia chuckled, ‘You _almost_ have sweets with every single meal now, Babs. Winifred?’ She looked expectantly at her teammate. 

Winifred sighed and spoke mechanically, as if this was something she’d said dozens of times before, ‘I miss films and going to the cinema.’

‘Well, I miss music!’ Trixie got a far-off dreamy look. ‘I remember my youth being just full of music, and I would dance around my room in ridiculous outfits. This camp is always so dreary, with only the sounds of people talking and incendiaries falling and that blasted ringing.’

Patsy, who had been trying to simultaneously listen and stave off her growing panic, seized upon the opportunity for a plausible answer. 

‘I would have to say that music is what I miss too.’ 

Patsy glanced across the table to see Delia and Barbara exchanging a look. For a fleeting second, she feared that they were going to call her on her bluff. She began to prepare a defense by trying to think of her favorite music, but her panicked mind kept coming up blank. 

Patsy’s concerns were allayed when, after Barbara and Winifred both gave Delia a small nod, the brunette suddenly shot up from the table and, with a promise to be back shortly, ran out of the tent. She returned several minutes later toting a huge black bag and a medium-sized box, which she placed gently on the floor. 

‘Did those come from your van?’ Trixie seemed incredulous, ‘I swear, it’s like Mary Poppins’ bag in there. Where do all of these things fit?’ 

‘Nurse Mount isn’t the only one here with exemplary organizational skills.’ Delia shot Patsy a sideways grin. 

She then carefully opened the box, and gently lifted to the table what looked like a very beaten-up antique record player. 

‘Does that thing work?’ Trixie sounded dubious. 

Delia looked slightly affronted. ‘Well, I had to convert an electric model to wind-up, and I can’t be picky about needle weight, but if you’re looking for something to drown out the buzzing of the beacon, she’ll do the trick.’ 

She reached into the bag on the floor, took out a record, and placed it on the turntable. She then turned a lever on the side about 30 times, waited a few seconds, and placed the pin. The first few chords of Helen Shapiro’s ‘Walkin’ Back to Happiness’ filled the tent. 

Trixie looked beside herself with joy, ‘Delia, I think I might just have fallen a little bit in love with you!’ 

Patsy feigned outrage and slapped Trixie on the shoulder. ‘Trixie! You said the same thing to me when I arrived here! I feel rather jilted.’ 

Trixie laughed as she pulled Patsy up from the table to dance, ‘Oh Patsy, there are different kinds of love. You make my life easier…and infinitely less lonely.’ She turned to Delia with a twinkle in her eye. ‘But Delia promises to make camp a whole lot more fun.’ 

Patsy laughed along with everyone as she observed the mischievous twinkle in Delia’s eye. Yes, she thought to herself, Delia Busby certainly had the potential to make camp a whole lot more fun.


	5. Delia

Delia’s first afternoon of assistant logistician duties had gone quite smoothly. She had gotten supply lists from Dr Noakes and a still slightly wary Monica Joan. Evangelina had huffed that nothing was needed on the security front, an assertion that Delia, like Phyllis, didn’t agree with, but she decided not to create trouble with the irritable nurse on her first day. Trixie had given her an impossibly long list of auto parts she required. Apparently, Barbara’s welding expertise had allowed Trixie to re-assess several vehicles that had previously been dormant. Delia wasn’t looking forward to handing Patsy that particular piece of paper. 

Delia had been telling everyone that she had volunteered to use her free time to lend Nurse Mount a hand and, for the most part, this had gone unquestioned. But Trixie knew better.

‘A likely story, Delia. This has something to do with those “behind-the-scenes machinations” you mentioned last night, doesn’t it? Did Patsy use her wiles to wrangle you into doing her dirty work?’ 

Delia was a little taken aback. She’d assumed these camp workers would be naïve idealists, but with Julienne, Patsy, and now Trixie, she felt like she was being played at every turn. This mission certainly was full of surprises. 

‘Of course not. It’s just that now that Barbara’s better she can work on reinforcing the metalwork, so the van doesn’t need my constant attention. I’d noticed that Patsy seemed a bit harried, so I offered my services. That’s all.’ 

Trixie shot Delia a wry smile, ‘Very well. Don’t tell me. You spies are allowed to keep secrets, I suppose.’ She stood and stretched. ‘I’m just happy you two are spending time together. Patsy was quite concerned that you were avoiding her.’

Barbara’s arrival spared Delia from having to respond. After confirming with Delia that she had all she needed, Trixie and Barbara wandered off excitedly discussing an SUV whose axle needed welding. 

___________________

 

Delia was a little unnerved as she walked to check in with Patsy. So, the redhead had suspected Delia was avoiding her. She chided herself for not being subtler. She _had_ , of course, been avoiding Patsy, but she had hoped she had been artful enough to avoid being detected. It’s not as if there had been any real _reason_ to interact with the nurse. Other than asking for supplies. Ugh. It had been so foolish to think Patsy wouldn’t notice stock was missing…but they were such small things. The sweets had made Barbara so happy. And what if Patsy had said no?

Delia sighed. Now she was just making excuses. No, Delia hadn’t asked because when she interacted with Patsy there was just _something_ there. A glimmer. A warmth. An interest. But if Patsy Mount was _Patience Mount_ , that glimmer needed to be extinguished. Or at the very least ignored. 

But just because she had been avoiding the redhead didn’t mean that she hadn’t noticed her. Noticed how diligently she worked. Noticed how stressed and exhausted she seemed. Noticed how caring she was with refugees in spite of that. So when Patsy had stood in front of her, asking for help in perhaps the only way she knew how, Delia just didn’t have it in her to say no. 

And, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t really _want_ to say no. She had begun the conversation with Patsy with all of her barriers up, intent upon not allowing the glimmer through. But then Patsy had charged in with her false bravado, trying to hide her nervousness behind bluster and bluff (claiming that Julienne would be less lenient than Patsy—not likely), and Delia just couldn’t help finding it kind of…adorable. 

So, despite her better judgment, she had agreed. Because Patsy needed help, and because the prospect of having a reason to check in with Patsy _every day_ had just been so…exciting. And really, it would only be a quick chat. She would keep it as formal and professional as possible. How much harm could it really do? 

 

_______________________

 

She finally found Patsy in the food storage tent, taking inventory of root vegetables. Delia felt a little jolt of excitement shoot through her as she approached the concentrating redhead. She quickly tamped it down. Barriers up, she reminded herself. Keep it formal. 

‘Good afternoon.’ 

Patsy glanced up from her clipboard and gave Delia a little smile before looking back down at the basket of potatoes in front of her. 

‘Hello. How were things today?’ 

Delia decided to get the bad news out of the way first. 

‘Fine. Though Trixie has quite the list for you.’ She handed Patsy the pad of paper she had taken notes on and watched as the redhead’s eyebrows got progressively higher as she skimmed down the seemingly endless list.

‘I swear. That woman thinks HQ is her own personal mail-order catalog. Every time I tell her she needs to scale back her lists, they get longer. She’s completely incorrigible.’ 

Delia let out a little snicker. ‘Mail-order catalog? You sound 80 years old!’ 

Patsy gave her a small half smile. 

Crap, thought Delia, that was neither formal nor professional. She cleared her throat, and began again in a serious tone. 

‘Anyways, with these supplies and Barbara’s welding expertise, Trixie can get a lot of vehicles functioning and fit for transfer up north. That would certainly please HQ, and could serve as a handy bargaining chip.’ 

Patsy squinted slightly, eyeing Delia suspiciously, ‘Did Trixie put you up to saying that? You don’t have to do what she says just because she’s so charismatic, you know.’ 

Delia smiled, ‘Duly noted. But in this particular case, I think she has a point. HQ is always looking for more vehicles for Bloc territories. Trixie thinks there are at least a dozen previously abandoned cars she could get fixed up. That would provide plenty of incentive for HQ to be more forthcoming with other supplies in the future. Even things like, say, camping mats.’ 

Delia knew that last bit was too much, but she couldn’t help it. She had readily bought in to the rivalry between the medical and housing sides of camp, and was disproportionately proud of having freed the mat from Shelagh’s grasp. 

Patsy raised an eyebrow and smirked, ‘I’ll ignore that little dig, considering I’m not threatened by your ability to lie to Shelagh. If I’d been willing to do that, I could have gotten it a week ago.’ 

All thoughts of professionalism temporarily vanished. Her honor had been called into question. 

‘I did not lie! All I said was that Barbara would be more comfortable if she had the mat, which was true. I never directly said Barbara was going to _get_ the mat. Shelagh just assumed.’ 

Patsy chuckled, ‘I’m making a mental note of the fact that you see that as an important distinction. Just in case we’re ever involved in any tense negotiations. Speaking of tension, how were things with Evangelina today?’

Delia decided to allow the shift in subject. 

‘No tension to speak of. She says she’s set for supplies. Dr Noakes was delightful. She mentioned that a few machines were acting up, so I’ll have Winifred take a look at them. Monica Joan provided a list, but still seems a bit wary of me.’ Delia was satisfied with how effortlessly she had shifted back into formal mode. These daily check-ins were going to be just fine.

Patsy shrugged, ‘Give her time. She’s probably just a little miffed that everyone was raving about your soup, which was delicious, by the way.’ 

Delia was pleased. ‘Thanks! My mam taught me all she knew. She was hoping that it would help me snag a good husband. Do you enjoy cooking?’ 

‘Heavens no, I’m a disaster in the kitchen. When Monica Joan goes on strike, the most anyone will let me do is heat a tin of beans. And even then, I sometimes burn them.’ 

Delia laughed, ‘Your mam really didn’t drag you in for cooking lessons? That was quite rebellious.’

Patsy’s face immediately fell. All humor was gone from her eyes, replaced by a mixture of pain and anxiety that she was obviously trying to mask. Delia could see the redhead struggling desperately to stay in the present, to not fall back into the past. 

Delia panicked. This was the same look Patsy had gotten last night during Before the Reckoning. Delia had hated seeing the redhead so obviously troubled. And now she had caused the look again. What on earth had happened in the nurse’s past? She should have known better than to bring it up. What a thoughtless mistake. She needed to distract Patsy. To bring her back to the present. But how to do it without making it clear how obvious the nurse’s distress was? She needed to say something. Now. So she said the first thing that popped into her head. 

‘Well, don’t feel too bad. _My_ poor mam learned it was all for naught when it became patently clear that a husband was never going to be in the cards.’

Patsy’s eyes shot up to meet Delia’s. The fog that had washed over them was lifting, replaced by surprise, then realization, recognition, and finally that little glimmer of warmth.

Shit. That was the furthest thing from formal and professional. At least the small smile creeping onto the corner of Patsy’s lips meant her words had accomplished their goal. But she needed to fix this. Words began pouring out of her mouth. 

‘I mean, I’m obviously not really the settle-down in a farmhouse in the country type. Not that I don’t love the country. Or farms. I just like other things too. Besides just housework and obedience and babies, and, you know, those Redemptionist things. Not that I don’t like babies. Babies are fine. I just like having other options.’ 

The twinkle of laughter in Patsy’s eyes as Delia stumbled over her words was both infuriating and extremely cute. Delia finally decided to just stop talking. 

Patsy stood and lifted the basket of potatoes back onto its shelf. She turned back to Delia, her voice full of mirth, ‘Yes, well, I have found that I very much prefer _other options_ as well.’ 

Delia’s jaw dropped for a brief moment, but she recovered quickly, and tried to act as if this piece of information was only interesting in a logistical sense. 

‘I suppose that explains why someone with as posh an accent as yours is on this side of the battle lines.’ 

Patsy shrugged and flashed a cheeky smile, ‘Among other things. I’ve never really been one for obedience or farms either. Especially in combination.’ She picked up her clipboard and walked past Delia, pausing for a moment next to her to lean in and whisper conspiratorially, ‘I am quite good at housework, though.’ 

She continued walking to the door, then turned, looking back towards Delia.

‘Thank you for your help today, Delia. It was greatly appreciated. I look forward to our check-in tomorrow.’ 

And with that, she left.

Delia’s mind was blown. Had that been Patsy flirting? By talking about…housework? Delia wasn’t sure how she would have expected Patsy to flirt, but she never would have imagined that it could be so adorable. Well, this conversation had been unexpectedly fun. 

She suddenly snapped back to reality. No, this conversation had been a catastrophe. She would have to be extremely careful going forward. In fact, she should probably tell Patsy she could no longer work with her. Yes, that was what she would do. Patsy would tell Julienne about her stealing, and Phyllis would yell at her and then she would go back to working on the van. It was the only way to avoid disaster. 

But it didn’t feel like a disaster. It felt warm and…fizzy. It’s not as if a little light flirting would harm the mission. If she thought about it, it wasn’t even certain Patsy was flirting with her. Maybe she was just excited to have met another woman like her. Heaven knows they were few and far between nowadays. And if she stopped working with the redhead now it would arouse suspicion. It would probably hurt Patsy’s feelings. Delia felt a small pang of sadness at the thought of that possibility. No, she would keep working with the nurse and would just be very careful going forward. 

The refugee arrival signal sounded over the PA system, followed by a dot and dot-dash-dash-dot indicating that Evangelina and Patsy had been summoned to the medical tent. At least that meant Patsy wouldn’t be at dinner tonight. Delia could use some time to think without the distraction of Patsy’s presence. She would see the redhead tomorrow after doing her rounds. 

______________

After dinner, Delia returned to the temporary housing tent that the Quartet shared. Lighting in the camp was terrible, and Delia was pleased the moon was getting fuller so she could navigate through the maze of tents. 

She entered to find Winifred and Phyllis staring at a computer on Winifred’s bed. Barbara wasn’t there, and Delia assumed that she and Trixie had gotten caught up in conversation.

‘Good evening, what are you two up to?’ she began cheerily. 

Phyllis glanced up, a look of irritation on her face, ‘Oh good. You’re here. We’re trying to create a communication channel with HQ, but we’re having trouble establishing a line that can’t be detected by the camp’s pre-existing one.’

‘Oh yes, I suppose that would be difficult when there’s already a signal transmitting on the secure Bloc frequency. Why not just ask Julienne if you can send a message? Surely it wouldn’t be unexpected that you want to communicate with HQ.’ 

Phyllis turned her wheelchair to face Delia, her eyes narrowing slightly, ‘Because it is patently obvious that Julienne is suspicious of us, and we can’t risk having her listening in on our communications.’ 

Delia tensed. When they had debriefed their first few days in camp, Phyllis had chided her for how terribly she had flubbed her first few interactions with Julienne. But the team had always known that outright deception and mind games were not her strength. It was why Phyllis normally made first contact. No, if Phyllis was bringing it up now, with this tone, it meant that something else was worrying her. Delia had a sneaking suspicion what it was. 

‘I’ve already apologized for that, Phyllis. I revealed the bare bones of our mission because I was worried she would ship us away from camp. It turns out that was a miscalculation and a mistake. But it doesn’t mean I can’t be trusted in my interactions. I’m not a novice.’ 

Delia’s sense of guilt made her tone defensive, almost angry. Phyllis inhaled sharply, her jaw clenching. Winifred looked like she was trying to sink into herself and disappear, and she focused overly-intently on the computer.

Phyllis exhaled slightly, as if trying to calm herself. ‘Well, I certainly hope you know what you’re doing. Working for her – _with_ her – every day is a risk.’ 

‘I know that, and I’m being careful. It’s just that she asked for my help, and if we’re supposed to be seamlessly transitioning into camp life, I didn’t have a good reason to say no. At least, not without arousing suspicion.’ There was no way Delia was going to tell Phyllis about the pilfered supplies and Patsy’s threat and today’s…revelations. She was already in the doghouse as it was. 

‘She asked for your help?’ Phyllis looked suspicious. ‘That’s odd. Do you think she suspects something?’ 

‘She thinks that I’m a semi-competent person with lots of free time on my hands to make her hectic life less stressful. I promise you that’s all she thinks.’ 

Phyllis seemed unconvinced. ‘Well, keep it professional, formal. And not even one word about personal matters or pasts or anything of that nature. There are too many uncertainties.’ 

‘But that’s going to be unnatural. We’re not robots.’

‘Delia.’ Phyllis’ tone brooked no argument. But Delia was stubborn. 

‘She’s not some confused child, Phyllis. I don’t understand why we can’t just talk-‘

Phyllis held up a hand, cutting Delia off. 

‘We’ve been over this before, Delia. It’s essential that we proceed carefully. There’s too much we’re uncertain of. We don’t know if Plan B’s final phase is even going to be approved. We don’t know what Julienne knows. We don’t even know if Nurse Mount truly knows who she is. Your mistakes with Julienne have already made our mission more difficult, and now your interactions with Nurse Mount are complicating it further. Please don’t give me any reason to censure you.’

Winifred gasped softly and Delia rocked back on her feet slightly, as if physically struck by the threat. She felt cowed. She looked down at her feet and mumbled. 

‘I really did think that it would arouse suspicion if I said no. I was just trying to fit into camp and help where I can.’ 

Phyllis gave her a hard stare for several moments. She slowly inhaled. Her words, when they came were precise, knowing, and hard. 

‘I think we both know that there’s more to it than that.’ 

Delia felt her face turning red with shame. How could Phyllis always see right through her? How could _everyone_ apparently see right through her? She felt frustrated and embarrassed and angry and like she needed to get away from this tent, this…place, immediately. 

Winifred’s voice cut through the tension. 

‘Phyllis, I think I’ve figured it out. I sent a coded message on an adjacent frequency. HQ responded and secured the line. You should be able to talk to them now.’ 

Phyllis turned and went to the bed, freeing Delia to walk as calmly as she could manage out of the tent and into the chilly night. 

___________________

Delia set a frantic pace, moving quickly through the maze of tents, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and Phyllis. Trying to work out her raging emotions by walking them into submission. Her mind raced.

She felt terrible at her job. She was letting down her team. Everyone could see through her. Why did she even have this job if she couldn’t even fool untrained aide workers? But that in itself was the problem. She had been doing this for a long time, and while outright deception had never been her strong suit, she had always thought of herself as a decent agent. This mission was revealing her limitations. These weren’t Redemptionist operatives, or wealthy Council wives, or morally bankrupt scientists. These were genuinely good people who dedicated their lives to helping others. She was profoundly uncomfortable deceiving them, and it showed. 

She felt simultaneously ashamed of her failures and angry that they had even been sent here in the first place. She wanted nothing to do with skulking around reporting on the women of Camp Poplar. 

And Patsy. The redhead’s effect on her was so…frustrating. Her entire adult life, and much of her teens for that matter, had been filled with espionage and risk. Dealings with people were fraught, rife with deceit and danger. Her only _true_ interactions were with her team, and she loved them deeply and inherently trusted that they had her best interests at heart. But even with them, things were not light and carefree. Their lives were filled with tension, and often it ran over into their friendships. 

Interacting with Patsy was different. It was light. Fun. It was so profoundly novel to get to meet a genuinely good person, who had no ulterior motives, and to find that that person seemed to… _like_ her. And she liked them back. She’d never felt that before. Maybe, if given time, it could even blossom into something more, something…genuine. She so desperately wanted the freedom to explore that hopeful possibility. But she couldn’t. A deep rage welled up inside of her. That this time she lived in, that this job she had chosen, would rob her of that opportunity. 

She stopped herself. That was such a profoundly selfish view. The work she was doing, the mission she was on, would affect untold numbers of people. It would prevent anguish, save lives. How could she possibly put it at risk just for a chance at personal happiness? Because of a little crush? For a connection she wasn’t even sure was really there? 

She felt like she was being torn in two. Her head knew the mission was the most important thing. But her heart wanted so badly just to…spend time with Patsy. To be young. Be happy. Be free. She groaned. No wonder Phyllis was treating her like a teenager. She was acting like one. 

Delia suddenly found herself face to face with the perimeter fence. She’d managed to walk down the dead-end where the medical personnel’s sleeping quarters were. She turned to continue her anger walk when she heard someone approaching. It must be one of the medical staff coming back to their tent. The _last_ thing she wanted to do right now was to interact with someone. Why couldn’t she just get some time to herself in this blasted camp? She felt trapped, caged. She felt like she might explode.

She was pacing furiously when she noticed that there was a gap in the fencing just big enough to slip through. Phyllis certainly was correct about perimeter security. She did a quick mental calculation. The beacons must be strong enough to repel Reapers outside of the boundary fence. She would only go a short ways. She needed to get out. She needed to be alone. She needed space to think. The approaching footsteps were getting closer. 

A small voice flashed through her head, warning her that this was profoundly unsafe. She ignored it. Overwhelmed by the need to get away, she bent down and slipped through the fence.

  

She moved away from the barrier that separated her from the troubles of camp. Even the air out here felt different. Fresher. Crisp. She took a deep breath, and felt herself calming. 

She paused for a moment to take in her surroundings. The moonlit landscape was beautiful. So much open space after the cramped maze-like confines of camp. Her anxiety waned, her pulse lowered back to normal. 

She glanced out towards the horizon, at the rolling hills spread out before her. A short ways off in the distance, she saw an old stone wall. She felt a sudden yearning to stand atop it and take in the night. The moon. The glorious stars. She moved towards it. 

All of a sudden, a tingling sensation told her to stop. She paused and listened carefully. It was silent. She continued slowly towards the wall. But the niggling concern was still there. What was it? 

Wait…the silence. It was _too_ silent. She realized that she couldn’t hear the buzzing of the beacon. She had gone too far. Panic seeped into her as she realized just how much trouble she was in.

She heard the Reaper before she saw it, a low growl emanating from the darkness to her left. Then a pair of eyes glowing that sickening, distinctive green. Its canine outline materialized out of the gloom. She felt a jolt of pure fear shoot through her. Her flight response took over. She turned and ran as fast as she possibly could back towards the camp, towards the beacons. 

Suddenly she felt a pain shoot through her left leg and she fell forward, smashing face-first onto the hard ground. She twisted around and saw her left foot wedged in a rocky hole. The Reaper was standing directly over her leg, growling menacingly. She could see the black froth dripping from its jowls. Smell its musk. Looking into its unnatural green eyes, Delia was sure this was the end. 

Then, out of nowhere, a resounding ‘thwack’ rang out, just as an arrow struck the Reaper directly between the eyes. It slumped to the ground without as much as a yelp. Delia looked around to see where the missile had come from. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she saw Patsy standing about 20 yards away holding a crossbow. She wasn’t sure she could possibly have been more shocked. _Patsy Mount_ with a _crossbow_. 

Patsy slung the crossbow onto her back and ran over to where Delia lay stuck. 

‘Are you alright?’ 

The adrenaline still coursing through her body made it almost impossible for Delia to process coherent thoughts. 

‘My foot-‘

Patsy reached down to extricate Delia’s foot from the hole where it was pinned. 

Delia just stared. 

‘You…killed it…with a crossbow. How…?’ 

‘We’ve been trained in a variety of weapons, Delia. Though the intention is to defend camp, not save spies who wander inexplicably outside the protection of the beacons at night.’ 

She had unpinned Delia’s leg and hauled her to her feet. 

‘Come on. We have to hurry. I didn’t bring a portable beacon, and there are probably more.’ 

‘You brought a crossbow but didn’t bring a beacon?’ 

‘I have a crossbow in my tent, for protection. Though if you plan on being this idiotic on a regular basis, I’ll put a beacon in there too.’ 

They were hobbling far too slowly back towards camp. Delia’s lower left leg was killing her. 

They heard a growl come from behind them. 

‘We don’t have time for this!’ Patsy grumbled before suddenly bending over and scooping Delia into her arms. Delia was shocked at the redhead’s strength. 

As Patsy shuffled rapidly towards the fence, Delia took in her determined features from where she was nestled in her arms. She realized that, despite the circumstances, she felt completely safe. Was that because she was in shock? She wondered if this was how princesses in those ridiculous fairy tales felt when they were rescued by the charming prince. Funny, she’d always imagined herself as the prince in those scenarios. 

Suddenly, Patsy’s features changed from determination to shock and…was that fear? Delia shifted to see that Patsy was staring at Delia’s lower left leg where her pants had ridden up as they’d moved. She looked into Delia’s eyes, panic-stricken. When the words came, they made Delia’s blood run cold. 

‘Delia, you’ve been bitten!’


	6. Trixie

Trixie had just returned to her tent, and was perplexed to find her roommate missing. The mystery didn’t last long, however, as she soon heard her name being shouted in Patsy’s unmistakable clipped accent. She noted that the redhead’s tone was urgent and sounded a bit…panicked? A bolt of concern shot through the blonde. Patsy _never_ panicked. 

She ran outside to see Patsy holding a pale and terrified-looking Delia in her arms on the outside of the perimeter fence. Trixie’s shock stopped her short. 

‘What on earth happened?’ 

Patsy lowered Delia gently to the ground. When she spoke, her words were matter-of-fact, and her tone was harsher than necessary. Trixie recognized it as the redhead overcompensating to cover distress. 

‘There’s no time to explain. Help Delia through this hole in the fence. Her left leg is largely useless. Then run and get Dr Noakes. Tell her we have a Reaper bite. I’ll take Delia to the medical tent, then get the antidote and page Julienne. I’ll meet you there.’ 

Trixie did as she was told, largely dragging Delia through the hole as the brunette scooted backwards on her rear, pushing herself with her right leg. Patsy slid through quickly after. Trixie noticed the crossbow slung across her back and was momentarily distracted. What on _earth_ had happened?

‘Trixie!’ Patsy’s harsh tone jolted her out of her stupor. ‘Dr Noakes! Now!’

As Trixie turned towards Chummy’s tent, she looked back and saw Patsy lean over, scoop up Delia, and shuffle rapidly towards the medical tent. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen her friend so visibly alarmed. 

  

_____________________

 

Trixie arrived at the medical tent just as Patsy was leaving. 

‘Try to keep her calm,’ was all she said before jetting off into the night. 

Trixie entered to find Delia propped up staring anxiously into space, her left hand nervously tapping the bed. The blonde noticed Patsy had taken a moment to cover Delia’s lower left leg with a sheet so the brunette couldn’t see the bite. It was reassuring that, despite her obvious anxiety, the redhead still had the wherewithal to consider that. 

Plastering on her best nurse’s smile, Trixie approached Delia and gently took her left hand in her own, prompting the Welshwoman to turn and look at her. She was incredibly pale, and though she was putting on a brave face, her eyes betrayed her palpable fear. 

‘Delia,’ Trixie spoke softly, ‘Dr Noakes is on her way and Patsy will be back momentarily with the antidote. We’re going to get to it early. You’re going to be fine.’

Delia nodded robotically and looked away. 

Trixie desperately hoped that she was right. The truth was it was almost impossible to predict an outcome when it came to Reaper bites. There were too many factors at play. How infected was the animal? How close was the bite to major blood vessels? How would the individual’s immune system react to the presence of the virus? Really all you could do was get the victim the antidote as quickly as possible, treat the bite site, and hope. In truth, Constance had been miraculously lucky to survive.

Delia knew all of this as well as anyone, which is why Trixie suspected her words were cold comfort. But the nurse knew the power of reassuring words. 

‘Really Delia, it’s only going to have been a few minutes since infection. There will barely have been any spread at all.’ The PA system sounded the alarm, followed by a dot-dash-dash-dash. ‘See, Julienne’s been summoned, which means that Patsy will be here with the antidote at any moment.’ 

Just then, Chummy burst through the door and made her way quickly to the bed. 

‘Hello there, Delia. I hear you’ve had a bit of a run-in with a Reaper. Let’s take a look, shall we?’ Chummy pulled back the sheet and began inspecting Delia’s left ankle, talking the entire time in a soft, reassuring tone. ‘Well, the good news is the bite doesn’t look too deep. There will have been almost no spread when we inject the antidote. Your ankle, however, looks like it has quite a severe sprain and is about the size of a grapefruit. I look forward to hearing how you and Nurse Mount managed that.’ 

Right on cue, Patsy came running in carrying a vial of antidote and an injection packet. She handed them to Chummy, and questioned the doctor while glancing nervously at Delia. 

‘How is the bite?’

‘Not too deep. We should be able to treat in plenty of time. Where’s Julienne?’ 

‘On her way. She went to let the other members of the Quartet know what was happening. Nurse Crane in particular would undoubtedly not appreciate being left in the dark.’ 

Chummy nodded knowingly. Trixie glanced up at Delia, expecting to see relief at the hopeful prognosis. She was unnerved to see that the brunette was glistening with sweat and her breathing was elevated. The blonde took a guess as to what might be causing her distress. 

‘Oh dear, surely you’re not that scared of Nurse Crane?’ 

Delia smiled weakly, ‘Oh no, it’s not that. I just…’ 

Her explanation was cut off by the sudden cacophonous arrival of the aforementioned nurse, who came bursting in followed by Julienne, Barbara and Winifred. Chummy studiously ignored Nurse Crane’s entrance, instead focusing on injecting the antidote into Delia’s thigh. 

‘Delia Busby! What’s happened? What have you done?’ 

Upon hearing the final question, the brunette hung her head and stared purposefully at her lap. Her face was quite red, though Trixie couldn’t tell if that we from shame or her obvious feverishness. Trixie gave her left hand a small squeeze of support. When it became clear that Delia wasn’t going to respond herself, Patsy took a deep breath and launched into an explanation. 

‘I was returning to my tent for the night when I saw Delia duck out of a hole in the perimeter fence.’ Winifred let out a small gasp. Nurse Crane narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Delia. Patsy continued, ‘I was concerned, so I fetched the crossbow from my tent before following her. It took a moment for me to find her, but I eventually saw her some distance away lying on the ground with a Reaper standing over her. Her leg was wedged in a hole. I shot the Reaper in the head and carried her back to the fence. I thought I had arrived just in time, but it appears she had already been bitten.’ 

Chummy piped up, ‘But the bite is quite shallow, and the antidote has already been administered. Unless it was a particularly badly infected animal, I think she’ll be just fine. I’m going to clean up the bite site now.’ 

Winifred and Barbara relaxed noticeably. Nurse Crane continued to glare at Delia. After a few moments, Barbara turned her attention to the redheaded nurse. 

‘Patsy, you shot a Reaper in the head…from a distance…at night…using a crossbow? That’s amazing.’ 

Delia’s head shot up, ‘I know, right?’ 

‘Ahem!’ Nurse Crane’s admonition brought Delia’s eyes forlornly back to her lap. ‘Dr Noakes, has Ms Busby taken the time to inform you that she has a history of exposure to the Reaper virus?’

Trixie was certain she was the only one who heard Delia quietly mumble ‘I was just going to.’ 

Chummy raised her eyebrows. ‘No, she has not. That could complicate proceedings.’

‘Indeed. I suggest pre-emptively administering an antipyretic, to keep down the coming fever. Last time was a fairly close call, and her immune system is almost certain to overcompensate. We could be in for a long night.’ 

Chummy nodded and went to the storage area for some paracetamol and fluids. 

‘Delia, you’ve been bitten before?’ Trixie couldn’t hide the horror from her voice. Being bitten by a Reaper and infected with the virus was something everyone lived in abject fear of. Trixie couldn’t imagine going through that emotional wringer multiple times. 

‘Not exactly…’Delia seemed unwilling to elucidate. 

Nurse Crane was more direct, ‘Last time she injected herself with the virus.’ 

‘What?!’ Trixie and Patsy’s exclamations were simultaneous. Trixie couldn’t even begin to imagine a context in which any sane person would do that.

Nurse Crane looked sternly at Delia while addressing the room. ‘Let’s just say that this isn’t the first time that Delia has engaged in _rash_ behaviour.’ 

Delia spoke painfully softly, but her voice was laced with defiance, ‘It wasn’t rash. It was a calculated risk.’ 

Nurse Crane looked as if she wanted to challenge her Welsh colleague, but Delia’s flushed features, glistening forehead, and slightly laboured breathing seemed to make her think better of escalating. Delia’s increasing discomfort had not escaped Julienne’s notice either. 

‘I think that the best thing for Ms Busby right now would be rest and quiet. Once Dr Noakes is confident she is stable and the bite site is sufficiently cleaned, I will take the first shift of remaining here to monitor her. I suggest the rest of you get some rest of your own.’ 

‘With all due respect Julienne, I’m not going anywhere until I’m certain that the worst has passed. I will be spending the night right here.’ As she spoke, Nurse Crane rolled herself next to Delia’s bed, and stared hard at the camp director, daring her to question her choice. Trixie noticed a small smile flash across Delia’s face. 

‘Nurse Crane, I’m sure that you understand that Ms Busby needs a _restful_ environment.’ 

‘I shall be studiously silent.’ 

‘It’s fine, Julienne. She should stay.’ Delia’s voice was soft. 

Julienne sighed, ‘Very well. Camp staff will still take monitoring shifts. Ladies, perhaps you could give Ms Busby some space? I’ll set up an observation schedule and let you know when it’s your shift.’ 

‘Good luck, sweetie. I’ll see you in the morning.’ Trixie gave Delia’s hand a small squeeze and shot her a reassuring smile before filing reluctantly out of the tent along with Patsy, Winifred, and Barbara. 

  

________________________________

  

‘Barbara, you absolutely _must_ tell us the story behind Delia _injecting_ herself with the Reaper virus. I know you know the details. I refuse to let you leave until you’ve spilled the beans.’ 

Trixie looked expectantly at Barbara across the table. While Winifred had gone directly to bed, claiming a headache, Trixie, Barbara and Patsy had decided they were too ramped up to go to sleep just yet. Instead, they made their way to the kitchen tent where Patsy had made up some Ovaltine to help them wind down. The milk was, miraculously, not scorched. 

Barbara looked down at her mug, obviously uncertain. ‘I don’t know, Trixie. I’m not sure I’m supposed to talk about it.’ 

‘Don’t be silly, sweetie. Delia spent your entire welcome dinner regaling us with tales of daring-do. I’m sure you’re allowed to talk about it as well. Anyway, Patsy and I will hold you prisoner in this tent until we’re satisfied, isn’t that right, Patsy?’ 

The redhead looked a bit preoccupied, but nodded gamely. 

The brunette was apparently convinced, and as she told the story, her initial reticence was rapidly replaced with exuberance, a little sparkle flitting in her eyes. 

‘Well, it all happened when we were trying to steal the original Reaper virus. Bloc scientists were fairly certain they had created a viable antidote using viral particles taken from infected animals. But they wanted a sample of the raw virus, to make sure it wasn’t mutated in an unexpected way by the canine Reaper host. Delia and I were undercover in the Redemptionist research facility, trying to obtain a sample. It was proving extremely difficult, however. Delia had managed to get herself assigned to the appropriate lab, but they were uncompromisingly vigilant about security. Full body scans and checks every day after work. She just couldn’t figure out a way to sneak out a vial.’ 

‘Oh no.’ Patsy could obviously tell where the story was going. She looked a little ill. 

‘Yes, right, you can guess what she decided to do. But she knew it would never be approved, so she didn’t tell anyone. She and Winifred did a bunch of calculations over the secure connection. Delia said it was to make her appear more qualified for her job in the lab. Then, one day, she announced that she would need to be extracted in two days. Said she had a plan, but refused to say anything else. What we didn’t know is that she’d been calculating viral replication rates. She knew it would be suspicious to inject the sample and then leave immediately, so she calculated the exact concentration to inject so she could have a few days to continue work before leaving.’ 

‘But what if her calculations had been off? What if the antiviral developed by the Bloc scientists hadn’t worked? She would have died!’ Trixie was torn between being horrified and impressed. 

‘I’m not sure she really let herself consider that. She injected some, and there was a security shutdown for a day over the missing sample, but she wouldn’t tell me where it was. Then, two days later, Tom came and picked her up. Said their impending marriage had been approved by Delia’s father.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Trixie cut in, ‘Who’s Tom? A male super-spy? Is he gorgeous?’ 

She noticed Patsy rolling her eyes and Barbara blushing slightly. ‘He is rather handsome, actually.’ The brunette hesitated. ‘But I wouldn’t really call him a super spy. He’s a wonderful guy, but he doesn’t really do much on his own. He’s mainly handy to keep around for if one of us needs a plausible love interest.’ 

Patsy snickered softly.

‘Anyway, it wasn’t until they were in the car driving away that Delia told them the sample was circulating in her bloodstream. Phyllis was absolutely beside herself. Tom got her to the Bloc research facility within hours. They drew her blood and were able to establish fairly quickly that there were no significant mutations, and the anti-viral they’d developed would be effective. But the virus had a pretty good hold in her at that point, and even with the antidote, it was touch-and-go for a while. I wasn’t there for most of it because I was extracted a few days later to avoid suspicion, but I hear Phyllis rarely left her bedside. I think she blamed herself for how seriously Delia had taken the mission. Phyllis can get carried away with protocols and objectives and efficiency, but underneath it all, I’m not sure there’s anything she cares more about than the three of us. Seeing Delia almost die over a viral sample was hard on her.’ 

‘But surely there’s always danger in your line of work.’ Patsy was ever the pragmatist.

‘Yes, of course there is, but injecting herself with a virus she couldn’t be certain there was an antidote to was tremendously reckless. And I think Phyllis feared she was the reason Delia thought the mission was more important than her own life. That she hadn’t done enough to make Delia realize that she was more valuable than that. I think it can be hard to find ways to show your love when you have a naturally gruff exterior.’ 

An awkward silence descended over the table. Patsy was staring into her mug, obviously having completely retreated into herself. Trixie wasn’t sure what to say. She had been hoping for a rollicking tale, but should have known that nothing involving the Reaper virus could end happily. They were spared from having to continue by the arrival of Chummy. 

‘Oh hello, you three. I see that great minds think alike. Is there any still warm?’ She checked the pan of milk on the stove and poured herself a mug. ‘Warm enough. What are you ladies discussing?’

‘Oh nothing, really, we were just winding down for bed.’ Trixie didn’t want the subject broached again. 

‘Good idea. Oh, by the way, we’ve moved Delia to the single isolation tent, to spare her the hustle and bustle should more refugees come in before she’s feeling one hundred per cent. Her immune system kicked into overdrive incredibly quickly, but we’re keeping her hydrated and she’s been given fever reducers, so hopefully she’ll fight through. I’ve told Julienne to come get me if her temperature reaches 40 degrees. And neither of you have monitoring shifts until morning; Patsy, you’re at 7am. So I suggest you get some rest.’ 

‘That’s a wonderful idea Dr Noakes, good night.’ 

Trixie was content to let Patsy speak for all of them, as they stood up and shuffled their way to their tents. 

  

_______________________________

  

Trixie awoke with the dawn light, grateful that the night had been blissfully incendiary-free. She looked over to see Patsy lying on her back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She worried about her friend. 

‘Patsy, did you get any sleep?’ 

‘Hmmm? Oh. A little, I guess.’ 

Trixie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She might as well get an early start on her work for the day.

‘Sweetie, don’t you have the next Delia monitoring shift?’ 

‘Oh. Yes, I suppose I do. I’ll head over shortly.’ 

Patsy made no move to get up. Trixie looked hard at her roommate for a few moments. Noticed how tense her body looked. The worry etched on her face. 

‘Patsy, I’m sure that Delia will be just fine.’ 

‘I should have called out to her when I saw her duck through the fence. I should have stopped her.’ Patsy’s voice cracked slightly and she sounded exhausted. 

Trixie felt a surge of simultaneous concern and frustration. Why did her friend always insist on carrying the world on her shoulders? 

‘Patience Mount! Don’t be ridiculous! No one is to blame for what happened but Delia. _She’s_ the one who went outside the protection of the beacons. It’s only because of you that she’s alive right now. Do you hear me?’ 

Patsy smiled weakly. ‘I suppose.’ 

‘Don’t ‘I suppose’ me! I am one hundred per cent correct. You are unequivocally forbidden from moping about this!’ 

Patsy let out a little laugh. ‘Forbidden?’ 

‘Yes, absolutely forbidden. Now, I’m off to the kitchen for some tea. Do you want me to get something for you?’

‘No, I’m fine.’

 

When Trixie arrived at the kitchen tent, Jane was already there nursing a cup of tea. Trixie was a little surprised to see her.

‘Good morning, Jane. Aren’t you supposed to be monitoring Delia right now?’ 

Jane looked a little panicked, ‘No. I mean, yes. Well, Delia was looking quite well, and Nurse Crane asked me if I could give them a moment of privacy before Patsy took over. And I thought that seemed reasonable. Do you think I’ve made a mistake?’ 

Trixie smiled, ‘No, that makes complete sense. How long ago did you leave them?’ 

‘About 10 minutes.’ 

‘Thank you, Jane. Be sure to get some rest.’ Trixie left the kitchen tent with her cup of tea. If Delia was feeling better, she would swing by and check in with her on her way to the lot. 

She heard muffled voices as she approached the small tent. Before entering, she peeked through the flap and paused for a moment. Nurse Crane was positioned directly next to the bed, holding Delia’s hand in her own, and her face etched with a look of apology. Delia’s eyes were downcast and she appeared to be…crying? Trixie immediately felt as if she was intruding, and she knew she should leave without disturbing the scene. But she was also profoundly curious. Nurse Crane didn’t strike her as someone who apologized for anything. And what would she have to feel bad about this time? It was Delia who had almost gotten herself killed. She leaned in closer as she heard Nurse Crane speak. 

‘Of course I care about your happiness, Delia. I know you’ve had so few opportunities for genuine contentment. I just don’t want you doing anything reckless that puts everything in jeopardy. I only want you to be careful.’ 

Trixie was baffled. Why would Delia need to be careful? What would be put in jeopardy? Why wasn’t Delia happy? What could make Delia happy that Nurse Crane was wary of?

Trixie heard footsteps approaching and assumed it was Patsy coming for her shift. Realizing she didn’t want to be caught awkwardly snooping, she decided to disturb the little tete-a-tete in the tent. 

‘Knock knock!’ she called out overly loudly, hoping to give Delia a few moments to pull herself together. She waited a beat or two before striding purposefully into the tent. ‘Jane told me you were feeling better, so I thought I’d stop by on my way to the lot to check in. A purely social call.’

Delia had managed to hide evidence of her tears astoundingly quickly. She mainly looked, and sounded, profoundly tired. 

‘Hello, Trixie. Yes, I’m feeling much better. Thanks for checking in.’ 

‘Hello! I’m here for my observation shift. How are you feeling? Oh, hello Trixie.’ Patsy had come striding confidently into the tent, and looked a little taken aback to see Trixie standing there. 

‘Patsy, I was just stopping in to check on Delia on my way to the lot. I’ll head out now and let her rest.’ 

‘Now that the worst has passed, I’ll also take my leave and let Delia get some restful sleep.’ Nurse Crane released Delia’s hand and gave it a caring pat before moving towards the entrance. She stopped alongside Patsy and reached up for a moment, briefly touching the redhead’s arm. She spoke uncharacteristically softly and her voice wavered slightly, ‘Thank you, Patsy. For saving her last night.’ 

They made brief eye contact and then looked away awkwardly, both obviously uncomfortable with the emotion of the moment. Nurse Crane quickly left the tent. Patsy took a moment to gather herself, taking a deep breath and then looking directly at Delia. 

‘Well, Ms Busby. You heard what Nurse Crane said. I hear you had an eventful night on the fever front, but now it’s time for some good fever-free rest.’ 

Trixie took her leave, glancing over her shoulder to see Patsy settling down in a chair near Delia’s bed as the brunette closed her eyes to rest.

  

____________________________

  

Her planned day of working on cars was promptly disturbed by a summons to the medical tent. She, Evangelina, and later Patsy spent the bulk of the morning and early afternoon tending to a steady flow of arriving refugees. Many of them were younger than normal, and they arrived with harrowing tales of increasing crackdowns. It appeared the Council and High Chancellor were gearing up for something big, and story after story of fear and suffering wore her down. Finally, the shift ended. Evangelina left for a security meeting and Patsy declared that she was going to work on something for Delia, who had seemed quite down before. 

As Trixie wandered from the tent, she realized that, after the tension of the last day, she just needed someone to vent to. Her first thought was Patsy, but she quickly realized that, even if she hadn’t been with Delia, the redhead was not the best choice. They were good friends, but the two women had found themselves to be too similar to provide each other with deep emotional support. Trixie had always sensed that Patsy was hiding some unspoken pain, and while she mildly resented that Patsy wouldn’t share it with her, she couldn’t really blame the redhead. Trixie herself kept the deepest pains of her past from her roommate. They both had chosen to hide their greatest vulnerabilities, and years of not truly opening up to each other had stifled any deeper emotional connection. 

Not for the first time, Trixie reflected on just how much she missed Mary Cynthia. She had always understood that the diminutive woman had felt a calling to become a spy, but it didn’t make her miss her calming, steady presence any less. And while Mary Cynthia was by no means an open book about her own emotions, Trixie had never sensed that she was hiding any deep, unshared pain either. It made her seem more open, more approachable. And she was such a good listener. But sadly, the spy had left camp the day after Barbara had regained consciousness. 

And so, it was less because of a feeling of kinship and more because of a lack of other options that Trixie eventually found herself sitting at a table in the dining tent across from Chummy. Julienne was at the stove heating some milk for tea and humming to herself. The doctor was happily munching away on some sweet peas, mumbling about how excellent they were this year. Trixie was in no mood for appreciating the small things. 

‘Doesn’t it just make you positively furious, when you really stop to think about it?’ 

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Chummy was obviously taken aback by the blonde’s outburst. 

‘That of all of the times in history, we were born _now_ , during the era when it all fell apart. I mean, imagine being young in the 1950s or 60s. Everything would be growth and progress. Rights are expanding, scientific knowledge is growing, social programs are being introduced. There would just be so much _hope_. And don’t even get me started on the outfits.’ Trixie sighed. ‘But instead, we’re here. And everything is just stagnation and sadness. Rights have been stripped, science disavowed except where it can help to maintain social order, and those of us who are left who are willing to fight for equality and progress have been forced to flee to the coldest, most barren corners of the world. No hope on the horizon. And every day I have to get up and wear _this_.’ She gestured towards her utilitarian regulation uniform. ‘I just can’t believe how _angry_ it makes me sometimes.’ 

Chummy stared a bit dumbfounded.

‘Well, I certainly believe it. You sound positively livid.’ 

Trixie huffed. This affable response was not what she wanted. 

Julienne spoke up, never stopping stirring the milk, ‘If I may interrupt, while I’m not particularly pleased with the direction the world has taken in the last 15 years, I wonder if you’re not looking back too fondly. The past may have been better than the present, but that doesn’t mean that’s what we should be striving for. Too many people were left behind at all points of our past; it’s not worth pining over. For example, we as women would have been so much more limited in our options.’

‘But Julienne, we wouldn’t even have necessarily _known_ we were missing those opportunities. Because that’s just the way life was back then. And our whole lives, we would have just gotten to see opportunities increase. New possibilities constantly springing up for us and our children. But now, now we’ve had to live through seeing them taken away, stripped from us. That seems infinitely worse than never having them in the first place.’

Julienne paused, and poured a little of the milk into her waiting tea. ‘Maybe _you_ wouldn’t have known what you were missing, but I guarantee you there were people alive in the 50s and 60s who were _fully_ aware of just what they were being denied.’

Chummy piped up, ‘Instead of focusing on what we’ve lost, you could put your energy toward imagining what a better future could be. And remembering to appreciate the small joys. Like these peas. You really should try one.’

‘It’s going to take more than some fresh peas to make up for all of the pain in the world.’

‘That does seem like a lot of pressure to put on produce.’

‘How can you be so flippant? How can you not be angry?’

Chummy’s tone became more serious. ‘Of course I’m angry, Trixie. In fact, most of the time, I’m bloody furious. About what happened. About how it was allowed to happen. About how people were and continue to be treated. But I try not to let it consume me. Or prevent me from appreciating the good that life still has to offer.’

‘The good it has to offer _you_ , Chummy. But what about all of the people who’ve been stripped of everything? Who’ve been imprisoned or sterilized or forced into marriages, into lives of servitude, with no self-determination? What are they supposed to appreciate?’

Julienne placed her tea on the table and sat down next to Chummy, ‘Trixie, everyone, no matter how marginalized, finds small ways to resist. To find little happinesses. It’s just how humans are wired. And none of us, not me, not you, not Dr Noakes, is responsible for bearing the pain of the whole world. That’s just too much. We do what we can, we help where we can, and we have to find peace with that.’ 

‘Well I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find peace in this beastly version of the world. Not only that, I never want to be at peace with even one little bit of it!’ 

And with that, she stood up and stormed out. She couldn’t take any more of Chummy’s positivity and Julienne’s seemingly easy answers. How could they just be at peace? With what they saw every day?

Trixie decided to go back to the lot and direct her anger at an unsalvageable Volkswagon Golf that needed to be broken down for parts. As she made her way across camp, she heard the unexpected sound of laughter from the direction of Delia’s isolation tent. Heading over to investigate, Trixie was shocked to see a beaming Delia in Nurse Crane’s wheelchair wielding a large obviously home-made cardboard dragon and chasing a transparently delighted Freddie, who was in Peter’s arms. Patsy, Winifred and Barbara stood off to one side, broad grins plastered on their faces.

Trixie sidled up to Patsy, ‘What on earth is going on?’

‘Well, Delia spent the entire morning so down in the dumps, we decided she needed a little something to cheer her up. The dragon was Winifred and Barbara’s idea. They asked if there was any paint, and we happened to have some leftover from when we made the camp signs ages ago. They provided the artistic talent. Nurse Crane lent her chair, though begrudgingly, and I provided Freddie. So far, it seems to have worked like a charm.’

Trixie stood there amazed. People were capable of hurting each other in the most profound ways. Trixie had seen that, and sometimes the true weight of all the inflicted pain and anguish was overwhelming. It seemed to seep into her very bones, to rob her of happiness, of hope.

But as she watched a delighted Delia chase a giggling Freddie around the tents, Trixie was struck by the sheer human capacity for joy and love. She realized she didn’t have to cope like Julienne, to serenely find peace. No, in the face of all the anguish in the world, she could fight back. Not with bullets or even with reflected loathing, but by fiercely, unabashedly and unashamedly loving those around her for exactly who they were. And really in the face of so much hatred, wasn’t that the greatest power she had? To just love…deeply and unconditionally and loudly. She knew it wouldn’t solve everything, but it was a great place to start.

She was suddenly struck by a wonderful idea for just how to spread that love throughout camp. She turned to face Patsy, Barbara, and Winifred.

‘Ladies, I’ve just had the most fabulous idea!’


	7. Patsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in listening along to the ABBA song, here is the link :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-crgQGdpZR0

Patsy stood completely still as Trixie fussed with the emerald green bed sheet that was wrapped around her body. She had been standing there for over a quarter of an hour as the blonde repeatedly circled her, making tutting noises and occasionally inserting carefully placed pins. 

‘For heaven’s sake, Trixie! How long do I need to stand here? It’s never going to look like a BAFTA gown. It’s a bed sheet! ‘

‘Stop being a poor sport, Patsy. It takes time to design a classic look that doesn’t require any cutting. I don’t want this to look like a toga party.’ 

Barbara looked up from where she was sewing her own red dress, ‘Why can’t we cut them, Trixie? It would make everything so much easier.’ 

‘We need to be able to use the sheets afterwards as bedding, and sewing them all back up again would be a monstrous task. It’s bad enough that we’re going to have to rip out all the seams we’re creating.’ 

Patsy saw an opportunity. ‘Well, I’ll happily volunteer to just wear a nice shirt and a pair of slacks. That way there’ll be one less dress to de-construct.’ 

‘Really, Patsy, do stop fussing about this. Even Evangelina was less difficult during her fitting.’ Trixie picked up the bottom of the green sheet and pinned it somewhere around Patsy’s knee in an attempt to make a ruffle. 

‘I still can’t believe you’re making Evangelina, Julienne, and Monica Joan gowns for this dance of yours.’ Barbara chuckled to herself, ‘Thank goodness you aren’t asking Phyllis.’ 

‘Why _shouldn’t_ all of them have gowns made? They’re not nuns, for goodness sake. They’re allowed to dance and have fun. And Nurse Crane will absolutely have a dress of her own. Just because she’s still in her wheelchair doesn’t mean she doesn’t get to look fabulous.’ 

‘More like ridiculous, in these get-ups.’ Patsy mumbled with a smirk. 

‘Patience Mount! I have it in my power to _make_ you look ridiculous. Don’t tempt me.’ Trixie’s small smile and the twinkle in her eye belied her threatening words. ‘Now, I have to run to the supply room for another box of pins. _Don’t move_.’ 

The blonde sauntered out of the dining tent towards the storage room, leaving Patsy standing awkwardly on a small stool trying to breathe shallowly to avoid getting poked. 

Winifred looked up from her gluing project with a small giggle, ‘The rampage of love continues.’ 

Patsy chuckled and then sighed as she took in the chaotic scene before her. Ever since Trixie had declared about three weeks ago that she wanted to ‘spread love throughout camp’ by hosting an all-camp dance extravaganza, she had been an unstoppable force. Once she decided to do something, Trixie committed herself with unparalleled zeal, and everyone had soon found themselves roped into helping out in some way. Now hand-dyed sheets in some stage of their transformation into ‘gowns’ were draped over nearly every surface of the dining tent and piles of décor were stacked everywhere. 

Julienne had been cajoled into allowing Trixie to order supplies ‘within reason’ from HQ, which meant that Patsy had been dealing with an endless stream of requests. HQ had been remarkably accommodating with the supplies that Patsy could justify as being tangentially necessary for the running of camp. The outdoor globe string lights would be re-purposed for camp lighting, and Shelagh would use the glass drink dispensers to provide self-serve water for refugees.

But there were items that Patsy simply couldn’t bring herself to request from HQ, so she had gone to Fred. As their affable black-market connection, he had been able to obtain balloons and fabric dye and hula-hoops and a promise of a few freshly picked wildflowers. But every time she thought she’d finally finished her negotiations, Trixie would appeal for some other seemingly impossible-to-obtain item. 

Finally, Trixie’s demands had gotten frequent and irritating enough that Patsy had taken the previously unimaginable step of allowing the blonde to negotiate directly with Fred. She hated relinquishing control, but also needed time to do her own job. So she had been as surprised as everyone else when Trixie had shown up this evening carrying a globe, a broken mirror and a bottle of glue. It turned out that Fred hadn’t been able to obtain a disco ball, but had been able to provide what he called ‘all the necessary parts.’ Winifred had spent the bulk of the evening gluing shards of mirror onto the globe. 

Patsy looked over to where she was working. ‘You know, you don’t have to do that tedious task if you don’t want to, Winifred. Trixie’s perfectly capable of doing her own dirty work.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind. I actually rather enjoy small little artistic projects like this. It’s not too difficult and leaves you with such a sense of accomplishment.’ 

Patsy smiled as the small spy turned back to give her complete focus to her project. While she was undoubtedly a bit odd, Patsy had found Winifred’s slightly naïve earnestness refreshing, and the redhead suspected that, given her line of work, the small woman was made of tougher stuff than it might appear at first. 

Suddenly, Trixie came bustling back into the tent, followed by Shelagh who was carrying several boxes. Trixie indicated a clear space on one of the tables. 

‘You can just put them right there, Shelagh. And be sure to thank Patrick for me. I’m so glad that he was able to come down for the dance. And not only because he brought those along with him.’

Shelagh smiled, ‘It’s no problem at all. I’m just so pleased that you thought to invite him. It will be such a treat to have him here a little early.’ 

‘Well, this is _the_ social event of the season, after all.’ Trixie smiled mischievously, ‘It simply wouldn’t be appropriate for him not to be in attendance.’ 

‘Nevertheless, thank you, Trixie. I do hope those work. Now I’m going to go and help Patrick get settled.’ Shelagh nodded politely at the others before heading back towards her tent. 

Trixie opened the boxes and squealed with delight. ‘Oh, this is absolutely wonderful!’

‘What is it, Trixie?’ Patsy was curious but couldn’t turn easily lest she be poked with pins. 

‘Dr Turner has a set of vintage 70s speakers that we can connect to Delia’s record player to have better sound quality for the dance!’ Trixie was beside herself. 

‘Did he just have those lying around?’ Patsy was curious. 

‘Apparently, he used to be something of a hipster before the Reckoning. Collected all kinds of vintage audio equipment.’ 

Barbara got up to examine the speakers, ‘Delia’s going to have so much fun figuring out how to connect these to our record player.’ 

‘Oh yes, I should go get her so she can start working on it right away!’ Trixie moved towards the exit, only to be stopped by Patsy’s emphatic voice. 

‘Beatrix Franklin! You are _not_ going to continue leaving me here like some human pincushion. I’m sure Delia will come check in at some point tonight. Kindly come and finish whatever it is you’re doing here so I can once again have full range of movement without fear of being poked to death.’ 

‘There’s no need to be so _dramatic_ , Patience.’ Trixie turned and approached Patsy with a sly smile and a glint in her eye. ‘Now, let’s get this fitting finished so you can be released from my tyrannical clutches.’ 

Trixie went back to circling and pinning, Patsy watching her carefully. 

‘Trixie, are you sure it’s alright for Dr Turner to be here? They worked so carefully to set a schedule that he can function with.’ Patsy spoke softly so Winifred and Barbara wouldn’t hear. Patrick had fairly severe PTSD from his service with the RAMC in Afghanistan before the Reckoning. As a result, the Turners had worked with Julienne to set a schedule that closely regulated his time in the refugee camp.

‘Don’t worry, Patsy. It’s all been cleared by Julienne. He’s only here for the dance. Then it’s back up to the Bloc until he’s scheduled for camp duty.’ Trixie placed one final pin, ‘There! All done. Now you can wriggle out of it and get to sewing.’ 

Patsy shot Trixie a look of surprise, ‘ _I’m_ expected to sew this monstrosity?’ 

‘Well, Julienne, Evangelina and Monica Joan aren’t going to sew theirs and I can’t force them. But I _can_ force you, so get to it.’ 

Patsy huffed and wriggled carefully out of the sheet. She had just sat down at the table with a sewing needle when Delia wandered into the tent.

‘Evening, everyone, I’m here for my fitting.’ 

‘Oh wonderful! I’m glad you’re here.’ Trixie gestured Delia over to where Patsy had just been standing. ‘We can do the fitting and then I have another little project for you.’ 

‘Ooo, I’m intrigued. And I’m excited to see what kind of haute couture look you create for me, Ms Franklin. Now, would this fitting be easier if I didn’t have this baggy shirt on?’ 

Without waiting for a response, Delia casually whipped off her shirt and made her way to grab the teal bed sheet she’d dyed earlier that week. Patsy felt her stomach flip as she tried not to stare. 

Ever since the night of her Reaper bite, the brunette had been perfectly friendly but, in addition to consistently seeming a bit run-down, Delia had been a little awkward around Patsy. She was still an absolute delight to spend time with. It was just that after their first few interactions, Patsy had thought that there had been a certain spark between them, and she had hoped…well, it didn’t really matter what she had hoped. Delia obviously didn’t feel the same way. Upon reflection, Patsy had determined that she had been too forward in their interactions and made Delia uncomfortable. She couldn’t count the number of times in the last three weeks she’d chided herself for her stupid housework comment. ‘I am quite good at housework?’ How on earth had she thought that was a good idea?

No, she had spent the better part of the last several weeks convincing herself that she and Delia would never be anything more than good friends. And really, that wasn’t a terrible consolation package. The spy was fun and kind and brilliant and a joy to spend time with. Patsy had found that their supply check-ins had quickly become the highlight of her days. 

But knowing that she and Delia were nothing more than friends didn’t make seeing her traipse around the dining tent in a bra any less distracting. Delia picked up the teal sheet and wrapped it around herself. The colour accentuated her eyes and made her look absolutely radiant. Patsy could feel herself blushing and looked down intently at her sewing, hoping no one had noticed. She distracted herself by focusing on Trixie’s chatter. 

‘Well, I’m just happy that your ankle has healed up in time. I was worried you’d have to hobble around the dance on crutches, and I suspect we’d all have missed out on some truly…creative dance moves.’ 

Delia played at being affronted, ‘Trixie, I’ll have you know that I would be an excellent dancer even on crutches.’

‘And she’s actually remarkably traditional.’ Barbara spoke up, ‘If you want to see some really creative moves, you’ll have to watch Winifred. She specializes in a modern-new age-hippie combination that is absolutely mesmerizing. And so ethereal.’ 

From anyone else the comment might of come off as mocking, but Barbara seemed entirely genuine. Patsy noticed Winifred blushing slightly with pleasure. 

‘I certainly look forward to seeing that.’ Trixie turned her attention to Delia’s gown. ‘Now, Delia, do you want this floor length or short and flirty? I suppose to some extent it depends on whether you want to show off your Reaper bite scar.’ 

Delia tensed slightly, and Patsy saw a look of…was it pain…flicker across the brunette’s face. But she caught herself quickly, and when she spoke her voice didn’t show any signs of distress. ‘You’re the artist Trixie. I put myself entirely in your capable hands.’ 

Patsy hated how much mention of the Reaper bite still affected Delia. Seeing Delia so uncomfortable brought up Patsy’s own pervasive feelings of guilt. While Trixie had repeatedly assured her that Delia getting bitten was in no way the redhead’s responsibility, there was a small, nagging voice in her head that told her that wasn’t entirely true. Because before she had seen Delia slip out of the fence, she had seen her pacing. Had seen how distressed she’d looked. How trapped. And she had _known_ she should call out. That Delia wasn’t being rational. That she would put herself in danger. 

But she didn’t, because…well, because she had been selfish and self-involved. Because she hadn’t been sure she was strong enough to support Delia through whatever was bothering her. Because she’d put her own insecurities above Delia’s safety. She’d convinced herself Delia just needed to blow off some steam and would stay close to camp. And by the time she’d worked up the courage to go after her, Delia had been bitten. She could have died. 

Patsy looked up and saw Delia watching her with concern. She realized her face must have been betraying her thoughts. She was usually so good at putting up facades, but the brunette seemed to see right through them. She felt a surge of desire to apologize. To tell Delia she knew it was her fault and she was sorry. But now was definitely not the time. 

She shot Delia a smile, to let her know everything was fine, and felt her stomach drop at the cheeky grin she received in return. This was all too much. She stood up. 

‘I’m sorry, Trixie, but it’s been a long day. I’m going to go to the tent and get ready for bed. I’ll finish up my dress tomorrow night. Barbara, Winifred, I’m sure I’ll see you here tomorrow evening. Delia, I’ll see you for our check-in tomorrow.’ 

They all bid Patsy a good night. Just as the redhead was about to leave the tent, Delia called out, ‘Oh, Patsy, don’t forget tomorrow’s my last day with you for a while. Barbara and I are going to be on gate duty for a bit.’ 

Patsy nodded, and then felt her heart clench as she left the tent. She was sad the check-ins were going to have to stop even temporarily. The supplies to fully repair the gate had finally arrived, and Delia and Barbara expected to spend the next week or two constructing a truly secure front gate. Delia referred to it as her ‘apology gift to Peter.’ 

It dawned on Patsy that the Quartet would probably leave soon after that, once Nurse Crane had fully recuperated. She sighed to herself. She wanted to be able to take advantage of every possible opportunity to spend time with Delia, but camp life was just so _busy_. At least she’d have the dance. 

 

__________________

 

Patsy had to admit that all of the time and effort that Trixie had put into the dance had definitely been worth it. She scanned the dining tent, feeling as if she had been transported to a fairy tale kingdom. Trixie had used the globe lights to transform the hula-hoops into chandeliers that looked magical. The remaining strings of light were strung through the ceiling poles so the entire tent was drenched in their soft, warm glow. Winifred’s disco ball hung from the ceiling, spinning on a little motor she had fashioned, and bouquets of spring wildflowers adorned several tables. White and silver balloons added a dash of whimsy to the classy decor.

Trixie had also worked magic with the bed sheets, and everyone looked surprisingly chic. The blonde had taken the time to fit each woman’s gown perfectly to her body and personality, and it was clear that they each felt beautiful and confident. Patsy was particularly impressed with the looks she had created for their older colleagues. Julienne and Evangelina’s black floor length gowns managed to be timelessly elegant, while Nurse Crane looked appropriately dignified in a cream-colored wrap. Monica Joan had created a red and black polka dot pattern that Trixie had fashioned into a flowing over-the-shoulder look that their quixotic cook obviously adored.

Much to Trixie’s delight, Mary Cynthia had been able to make it back for the dance, but only thirty minutes before it was set to commence. Despite the tight time frame, the blonde had managed to fashion a simple yet flattering white shift dress for the diminutive spy. 

But in Patsy’s opinion, Trixie’s crowning achievement was Delia’s look. All evening Patsy had been distracted by how utterly stunning Delia looked in her teal dress. She suspected that Trixie had deduced her latent crush on the Welshwoman and had designed Delia a particularly form-fitting gown expressly to torture her. She didn’t even know how Trixie had managed to manipulate a bed sheet into perfectly accentuating all of Delia’s curves. 

Luckily for Patsy, Trixie had forbidden slow dances, preventing the redhead from having to discover if she would be brave enough to ask Delia to dance. Instead, they had all been jovially dancing with each other in large groups. Everyone was truly relaxed for the first time in ages, the atmosphere was highly supportive, and they all felt comfortable dancing their hearts out. 

Even the camp’s current refugee residents, who Trixie had strongly felt should be included, had picked up on the vibe, and Patsy was enjoying getting to see people she often only saw at their most stressed relax a little. 

The music hailed almost exclusively from the before the 1980s, with an emphasis on the 50s, 60s and 70s, a result, undoubtedly, of just pre-Reckoning record collecting habits. Unsurprisingly, Trixie, Barbara and Delia were quite accomplished dancers, and when Patsy joined them, the four of them made quite an impressive quartet. Winifred’s dancing was both as impressively ethereal and mesmerizing as advertised, and it suited her personality perfectly.

That Shelagh and Patrick were skilled on the dance floor surprised no one, but Evangelina was a shockingly adept dancer, and at one point she surprised everyone by launching into a sparkling rendition of the Charleston. Chummy and Peter made up for what they lacked in technical skill with boundless enthusiasm. 

Monica Joan and Delia had prepared a buffet of overly fancy snacks, and Trixie had managed to concoct a delicious fruity punch that provided welcome refreshment during periodic breaks from the dance floor. 

The whole affair had been going on for several hours, and Patsy was having an absolutely wonderful time. 

There had been a noticeable break after the latest song, and suddenly Trixie shouted out jovially, ‘I’ve had a request from the couples in the room for at least one slow song, and despite my general feeling that those who have found love should allow us spinsters our fun, I have begrudgingly agreed to allow Shelagh to select a romantic tune. Take advantage of the opportunity, lovebirds. There won’t be many. And fellow spinsters, find each other and showcase your best waltzes. We’ll show these couples how it _should_ be done.’ 

Patsy felt her gut tense as she watched Barbara & Winifred and Trixie & Mary Cynthia pair off for the dance. Her heart leapt into her throat as out of the corner of her eye she saw Delia making her way over to where Patsy was standing. She genuinely didn’t know if she could keep it together through a slow dance when Delia looked this ravishing. 

Delia had just about reached her when the first few chords of the song sounded out of the speakers. Patsy felt her stomach drop, and her vision became blurry. Peter Frampton’s voice resonated throughout the tent. 

_‘Shadows grow so long before my eyes; And they’re moving…across the page…’_

Patsy suddenly felt incredibly dizzy. She was back, lying on the table. Tied down. Trapped. 

_‘Suddenly the day turns into night; Far away…from the city…but don’t hesitate…’_

The man was there. Humming the tune. Singing the words softly to himself as he picked up the instruments off of the table. 

Patsy was vaguely aware of Delia’s concerned voice. ‘Patsy, is everything alright?’ It sounded like she was a world away. In another time. Patsy realized numbly that she was swaying dangerously; that someone had grabbed her by the waist. She couldn’t breathe.

 _‘Cause your love…won’t wait; Ooh baby I love your way…every day…’_

As the song reached its chorus, she was spurred into action. She felt like she was going to be sick. She needed to get out of this tent. To get away from this song. She wrested herself out of the grasp of whoever was holding her and ran out into the darkness. 

She gasped for air as she ran past abandoned tents. She realized she was sweating profusely. She went far enough that she couldn’t hear the song anymore, though it still rang in her head. Realizing she needed to sit down before she fell over, Patsy flopped unceremoniously on the ground behind a temporary housing tent and put her head between her knees. Drawing ragged breaths, she focused on controlling her memories. On walking through the strategies Julienne had taught her. 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard quiet footsteps approaching and felt the presence of someone sitting down next to her. Patsy knew that none of her long-term camp colleagues were likely to have followed her. She suspected she knew who it was, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t want to engage. 

They sat together in silence for a while, Patsy re-focused on controlling her thoughts. 

Eventually, a soft Welsh voice broke the stillness. 

‘Is it alright if I give you a hug, Patsy, or would you prefer not?’ 

In that moment, Patsy realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held. The last time she’d had the blissful feeling of being wrapped in the protection of someone’s arms. It struck her that she wanted that so much, but she didn’t want to ask for it. Didn’t want to speak for fear her voice might break. So she just kind of leaned into Delia, hoping the brunette would realize what that meant. She needn’t have worried. She was instantly wrapped in a warm, strong embrace, her head nestled under Delia’s chin, her arms bent in front of her, leaving her completely cocooned in the hug.

It felt so profoundly comforting to just be held. She felt herself calming. They stayed like that for several minutes, Patsy concentrating on reining in her feelings. She didn’t cry, there was no way she was going to let Delia see her cry, but just focused on controlling her breathing. Patsy felt safe in a way she hadn’t in a long time. 

Eventually, she realized that Delia was probably wondering what had happened. Why she now found herself sitting on the ground holding a grown woman who had just run out of a dance like some kind of jilted teenager. She should try to explain. She spoke without moving, the sound muffled. 

‘I’m sorry, Delia. It’s just…that song…’ Patsy stopped as her voice cracked. She _wouldn’t_ cry. 

She heard Delia’s response less as spoken words and more as a rumble through the small woman’s chest. 

‘It’s alright, Pats. You don’t need to tell me anything. I’m happy just like this, and we can stay here for as long as you need.’

Patsy felt a rush of gratitude; Delia just seemed to understand. She _did_ stay just like that for a while longer, feeling so safe and so warm wrapped in the smaller woman’s arms.

  

 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Patsy took a deep breath and raised herself so she was sitting up straight. Delia released her from the hug as soon as Patsy made a motion to sit up, but kept a hand on the centre of the redhead’s back. 

Patsy sighed. ‘Thank you, Delia. I’m sorry.’ 

‘You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.’ 

‘But you had to leave the dance, and--‘

Delia cut her off gently, ‘No ‘buts’, Patsy. You never have to apologize for your feelings. All that matters to me is that you’re alright.’ 

Delia was looking intently at her, and Patsy felt slightly awkward under her gaze. It was utterly foreign to have her emotions and wellbeing centred by someone else, and she realized that she had no real framework for how to respond. She felt profoundly grateful, but had no idea how to even begin expressing that. Thankfully, Delia seemed to pick up on Patsy’s discomfort. The brunette took an exaggerated breath and hoisted herself to her feet.

‘Come on, lets go for a little walk and work some of the tension out of our systems. I’ve always found that if I stay still in one place, I just get wound up tighter and tighter.’ 

Patsy had never really tried ‘walking it out’ as a tension-relief strategy, preferring instead to sit and stew, but figured that it was worth a try. Plus, she didn’t want to lose Delia’s company quite yet and she didn’t know if the brunette would stay with her if she remained seated on the ground. So she hoisted herself to her feet and they began to slowly amble around the camp, walking side by side. After a few minutes of meandering in companionable silence, Delia nudged Patsy lightly.

‘So, tell me a song that brings you happy memories.’ 

Patsy shot Delia a sceptical glance and shrugged. The brunette smiled and jovially huffed her response. 

‘Oh come on, Pats, there _has_ to be a song that reminds you of _something_ good. We need something to get that other song out of your mind, or else it will just keep popping back up. You don’t even need to think about past events, just focus on the songs themselves.’ 

Patsy considered this for a moment, scrolling through a list of songs in her head before arriving at one that brought a smile to her lips. 

‘ABBA’s _Take a Chance on Me_ has always made me smile.’

‘Yes! Excellent choice!’ Delia was practically hopping with excitement, ‘Come on, let’s sing it!’ 

‘What? Delia, no, we can’t--‘

But Delia had already launched into an exuberant rendition, dancing around Patsy in circles loudly belting the opening lines,

 _‘If you change your mind, I’m the first in line; Honey I’m still free; Take a chance on me…’_

Patsy glanced around nervously. Loud public displays had never really been her style, and she was mortified someone would see them. 

‘Delia! You’re being too loud!’ She whispered urgently. 

But the brunette would not be deterred, _‘If you need me, let me know, gonna be around; If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down.’_ She paused for a moment in her singing, ‘Come on Patsy, everyone’s at the dance. No one will see.’ She picked right back up, _‘If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown; Honey I’m still free; Take a chance on me…’_

Patsy couldn’t help a small smile as she watched the Welshwoman dance joyously in circles around her. Delia reached out and grabbed her hands, trying to get the redhead to engage. 

_‘Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie; If you put me to the test, if you let me try…’_

At this point Delia made direct eye contact with Patsy, making it clear with her look that she expected participation. 

_‘Take a chance on me…’_

Delia paused, looking expectantly. Patsy gave an exaggerated huff, which was betrayed by the genuine smile creeping across her features, before softly reciting, _‘That’s all I ask of you honey.’_

Delia beamed, _‘Take a chance on me…’_ She faltered for a moment and briefly looked panicked before continuing with the correct melody _‘I don’t know this part, yes I don’t remember, because it’s not the chorus.’_

Patsy let out a deep laugh at this as the brunette continued.

 _‘You’re gonna have to join me, I know you know it, or else this is a disaster.’_

Patsy was completely charmed. A quick glance around assured her that they had not disturbed anyone and that no one was coming. She looked back into the brunette’s eager and hopeful eyes and found herself completely caught up in Delia’s infectious enthusiasm. Patsy’s singing started out a touch softer.

_‘Cause you know I’ve got; So much that I wanna do, when I dream I’m alone with you; It’s magic…’_

Pure joy radiated from Delia’s smile. Patsy’s lyrics seemed to have triggered her memory, and the two of them sang the next bit together. 

_‘You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair; But I think you know; That I can’t let go…’_

By the time they reached the beginning of the next chorus, Patsy was singing almost a loudly as Delia. They belted out the rest of the song together, accompanying their performance with exaggerated dance moves. When they finally reached the end, they devolved into a fit of giggles. 

They picked up their meandering route around the camp, wandering slowly side by side. 

‘Well, I think we’re ready for a karaoke night.’ Delia nudged Patsy. 

Patsy feigned horror, ‘Delia Bubsy, if you think for one minute I would ever engage in such a ridiculous display in front of my esteemed colleagues, you are sorely mistaken.’ 

Delia played at being affronted, ‘Oh, so I’m not _esteemed_ in your eyes?’ 

‘I wouldn’t say that. It’s just that I respect and admire you in _different_ ways.’ Patsy immediately regretted her words. She was being too forward again and making things unnecessarily awkward. She avoided looking at Delia and quickly changed the subject. 

‘Thank you for reminding me of that song. My mother loved it. Sometimes she would put it on her antique record player and dance around the room singing it to my sister and I. She was actually a child of the 90s, but said she always felt more connected to the 70s and 80s. She called _Take a Chance on Me_ her lucky song because it came out the year she was born. I haven’t even thought about it in years.’ As Patsy spoke, her voice softened and her tone was wistful, ‘I’ve worked so hard to _not_ think about any of it, I suppose I’ve forgotten the good things too.’ 

Patsy drifted off into silence. Delia let her reflect for a few moments before responding quietly, ‘It sounds like your mam’s a lot of fun, Patsy. I’m sure there are a lot of good things to remember.’ 

Patsy looked down, ‘She was a lot of fun, though I think the most apt adjective would be passionate. She was passionate about the cause and passionate about her daughters. I think she would have done just about anything for us.’ Patsy’s voice was becoming harsher and tinged with sadness. She could feel herself being dragged back into her grief. Delia seemed to sense this and moved closer to Patsy, interrupting the redhead’s thoughts with a story of her own.

‘Well, I wouldn’t describe my mam and tad as passionate, unless it’s about the superiority of all things Welsh. But I do think they would do just about anything for me. Or at least they would have done, when I was younger.’ A distinct touch of disdain accompanied this final statement, which piqued Patsy’s curiosity. She’d never heard Delia use that tone the few times she’d mentioned her parents. 

But all traces of scorn were gone from the brunette’s voice when she continued her story. She quickly became highly animated, accentuating her tale with wild gestures, ‘I remember once when I was very young we were on holiday at the beach, and my tad and I were squatting in the water looking at a starfish. I was completely mesmerized when suddenly a gull swooped down and plucked it right out of the sea. I was absolutely despondent. Sobbing about how I wanted the starfish back. My tad leapt up and began chasing the gull down the beach shouting ‘Hey you, put that back!!’ He must have run for almost a full kilometre before the gull finally landed and swallowed the starfish whole right in front of him. I think if he could have caught it, he would have squeezed that starfish right out of that gull just so I could have it back.’

Patsy laughed. It was remarkable how adept Delia was at pulling her back when she began spiralling down into her memories and her grief. The brunette was on a roll now, and immediately launched into another story. 

‘Now my mam, she would never be so effusive in her devotion, but she found her own ways to show she cared. When I was nine, I was in the midst of my cooking lessons…yes, she started early…and one day, I announced that I was going to make her a special breakfast. We’d been working on frying, so I made her a traditional fry-up. Eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, tomato…everything. But I was never a traditionalist, so I stacked it all to make a monstrous sandwich. Now, several days before, I’d heard her comment to a friend that ‘Everything tastes better with chocolate on it’, so as a finishing touch, I poured chocolate sauce over the entire thing.’ 

‘Delia, that’s revolting.’ 

‘I know! But I was so incredibly proud of it. And you know what? My mam ate every last bite. Just because she knew how much it would mean to me.’ 

‘Now _that_ is true devotion.’ Patsy smiled and turned towards the Welshwoman to see her staring off into the night.

‘That was just before the Reckoning…’ Delia’s voice trailed off, and for just a moment she seemed distant and detached. It dawned on Patsy that Delia probably had her own past demons. She had to admit that she was curious about the events that had motivated the diminutive Welshwoman to become by all accounts a rather reckless Bloc spy, but she certainly wasn’t one to pry. 

Delia snapped suddenly back to the present, and turned to Patsy with a look of trepidation, ‘Patsy, can I ask you a question?’ 

She felt a small pang of anxiety. Delia looked so uncharacteristically nervous. But the brunette had been so wonderfully supportive and, Patsy realized, she trusted her to not ask anything that would dredge up undue pain. 

‘Of course, Delia.’ 

‘That shot that you made. With the crossbow. And the Reaper. You know, the one that saved my life. That wasn’t the kind of shot you learn to make in basic camp defence weapons training. We’ve all received _years_ of training, and Barbara’s the only one of us who could come close to that kind of accuracy in those conditions. Where did you learn to shoot like that?’ 

Patsy sighed to herself. Ever since she’d killed the Reaper, she’d tried to downplay the skill required for that shot. She’d told Barbara and Nurse Crane that it had been mostly luck, but she knew that Delia would see right through that lie. Patsy had been too efficient, too confident when she’d come to Delia’s aide afterwards. It was undoubtedly obvious to the Welshwoman that Patsy had always known that arrow was going to go precisely where she wanted it. 

But she also didn’t feel ready to tell Delia the whole truth. Too many wounds had already been opened tonight, and Patsy didn’t feel up for prodding at any more scars. And, if she was completely honest, she wasn’t certain of how Delia would react to the unvarnished truth. She didn’t know if she could handle a reaction of fear or suspicion or, perhaps worst of all, pity. No, now was not the time. 

Delia, however, would undoubtedly be able to detect a complete lie, so instead she blocked off the more painful parts of her past, and launched into telling a carefully selected morsel of the truth.

‘I’ve actually been training with various weapons since I was very young. I’d shown an early interest in fencing, and my parents determined this to be a suitable activity for a young woman of my standing. They allowed me to embrace it wholeheartedly. I was quite good at it, even making it to national competitions several years in a row, before all of those kinds of things were cancelled for girls. As the political situation devolved, my mother began taking my sister and I aside and training us in the use of other weapons. Hope took immediately to the ones with more power…guns and compound bows. She was older than me, and had a lot more anger about what was happening in the world. For me, I think it felt like more of a game. I was drawn to things like throwing knives and ninja stars, because they felt more honourable, I suppose. I only even picked up the crossbow because my mother insisted I practice some form of archery. So, in short, I have been training to make that shot almost from birth.’ 

Delia had listened intently throughout Patsy’s explanation. If she suspected Patsy wasn’t revealing the entire truth, she didn’t show it.

‘Do you ever regret that you’re not making use of those skills?’ 

Patsy thought about this for a moment. ‘Not with the way I’d need to use them now, no. I don’t have any interest in killing. I got no joy out of shooting that Reaper; it was just something that needed to be done. I much prefer healing. I think I enjoyed learning the skills when I was young precisely because they seemed so detached from enacting actual violence against another living thing. It was target practice. A way to connect with my mother and sister. In all honesty, _that’s_ what I miss most from before the Reckoning. Having the chance to use my skills when it’s not about life or death but is just friendly competition. Especially fencing. Getting to test your wits, reflexes and strength against someone else. I miss that.’ 

‘Well, thank goodness you finally told the truth about that! Honestly, your real answer to Before the Reckoning was shaping up to be one of the great mysteries of our time.’ 

‘So you always knew I was lying about music?’

‘You may have found a way to blackmail me, Patsy, but I am still a trained spy. I would be truly terrible at my job if I hadn’t been able to detect such an obvious lie.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Also, ninja stars? Truly?’ 

Patsy laughed, ‘Truly. Though they’re really only useful to disarm or distract. The movies always made them look much more menacing than they are.’ 

Delia smiled back, ‘That may be so, but that doesn’t make the fact that you know how to use them any less impressive.’ 

Their walk had by now circled much of the camp, and they found themselves outside of the dining tent again. Light, music, and laughter spilled out into the night. 

Delia moved to re-enter the dance, but Patsy hesitated. She felt a sudden panic grip her. The strength of her reaction before had caught her by surprise. As magical as the dance was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back into that space. It didn’t feel stable. It didn’t feel safe. 

Delia turned, a quizzical look on her face. Just one glance at Patsy caused her brow to furrow for a moment before she raised her eyebrows, as if struck by an idea. 

‘Stay right here, Patsy. I’ll be right back.’ She popped into the tent. 

Patsy stepped back into the shadows, feeling safer enveloped by the darkness. A part of her longed to return to the dance, to go back to having fun with her friends. But the thought of opening herself up was too overwhelming. Her strong survival instinct urged her to simply slip away. To find a quiet place to hide from her feelings and the past. 

She had just convinced herself that she would leave when Delia reappeared. 

‘Alright, Patsy, I talked to Trixie. No more Peter Frampton. At all. And _Take a Chance on Me_ is all queued up. Though we did our best, I feel confident in saying ABBA’s original is better than our rendition.’ 

Delia took a step towards her, an affable smile on her face, but Patsy reflexively stepped back, retreating further into the gloom. Delia stopped immediately and allowed a few moments of silence. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and patient. 

‘You have friends that would still love to spend time with you. And I’ll be with you the entire time. You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to let it control you. You were having fun before, and there’s still fun to be had this evening, if you’re up for it.’ Delia paused for a moment, and then held out her hand. ‘Come back in with me, Pats.’ 

Patsy looked down at Delia’s hand. She felt her pulse quicken and her stomach tighten. While the rational part of her wanted to re-enter the tent, her instinct was to run. To leave this place, this dance, that had caused her pain. To retreat to her tent by herself and prepare to face the next day. 

But then she looked up into Delia’s eyes. They exuded such caring and warmth and assurance that she wouldn’t be alone. Patsy felt herself relax slightly. She breathed deeply, reached out, took Delia’s hand, and let herself be led back in to the music. Back in to her friends. Back in to the light.


	8. Delia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, so, this post took a lot longer to finish than I anticipated. The first several weeks of summer have been absolutely bonkers, but now that things have slowed down, I hope to be able to update more regularly. Thanks for your patience and enjoy!

Delia was back in the barren, sterile hallway of the compound. She knew that if she was going to save them, she had to get to the back room. She had to make it to Barbara and Phyllis before they were hurt. The alarm sirens Winifred had activated were deafening. She plugged her ears and ran forward. But the hallway kept expanding, stretching before her in an endless line. She felt as if she were running through knee-deep sand. Why couldn’t she run? Why wouldn’t her legs work? Panic gripped her. She needed to get to them.

Suddenly, as if by magic, the door appeared in front of her. She burst through it to see the scene that was now indelibly etched in her memory. Barbara lay on the floor, badly beaten, with a mountain of a man standing over her. Phyllis lay strapped to a table, moaning in pain. She was too late. She had failed. 

The man ran at her. She reached down and pulled a canister of pepper spray out of her hip belt. As he swung at her, she crouched, deftly ducking his attempted blow. When he spun around to strike again, she sprayed directly into his face. He fell to the floor, and she struck him with her baton, rendering him unconscious, before turning to her friends. She needed to get them out. 

‘Delia!’ A voice rang out from behind her, and she turned to see Patsy strapped to a table in the ever-expanding room, a Reaper standing over her. ‘Delia! Help me!’ 

Confusion and fear shot through her. Patsy shouldn’t be here. Why was there a Reaper in the building? What was going on? 

She took a step towards Patsy, but the table the redhead was strapped to drifted away with each step she took towards it. She turned, looked back to see that Barbara and Phyllis were moving away too. ‘Delia! Help us!’ Delia turned to run towards them, but they simply floated away faster. 

The blaring of the alarm and their calls for help rose to a cacophonous clamour in her head. ‘Delia! Delia! _Delia!_ ’ She couldn’t reach any of them. She couldn’t help them. She stood, powerless and afraid, listening to the cries of her friends. She screamed in frustration. 

‘Delia!’ The cries morphed into Winifred’s soft but insistent voice, drowning out the alarm and Delia’s own screams. ‘Delia, wake up! You’re dreaming again!’

Delia started awake to see Winifred’s calm face through the hazy moonlight. She realized she was covered in sweat, her heart racing in her chest. 

‘Delia, are you alright? It sounded like that nightmare again.’ Winifred voice seemed both worried and groggy. This was at least the sixth or seventh time in the month since the Reaper bite that Winifred had coaxed Delia out of her nightmares. All of the other nights, Delia’s own terror had jolted her awake before she disturbed her teammates. Delia sighed. At least Phyllis and Barbara were heavy sleepers. 

‘Yes, Winifred. I’m fine now. Thank you for waking me.’ 

‘Come on, scoot over.’ The small spy gestured for Delia to make room for her in the bed. 

The very first night Winifred had woken her from the dream, the experience had been so new and disorienting that Delia had been truly terrified. In her fear, she had grabbed Winifred’s hand and refused to let go. Her diminutive teammate had eventually simply crawled into bed with Delia, holding her for the remainder of the night. 

Now, whenever her nightmares woke Winifred, she insisted upon cuddling with Delia until morning. Begrudgingly, the brunette had to admit that it made her feel less afraid.

Delia moved over to make room. She wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night, but this was Winifred’s way of providing what support she could. 

‘Delia,’ Winifred whispered as she got settled, ‘This has been going on for almost a month now. Do you think it could be some side effect of the Reaper virus? Maybe you could talk to Dr Noakes about it. She might be able to suggest something that could help.’ 

Delia considered this. She knew she should talk to _someone_ about her dreams, though she suspected Julienne would be more helpful than Chummy in this particular case. But she felt unsure of whether she was allowed to approach them. Technically, she was on a mission, and the parameters for seeking out mental health care while in the field were unclear. 

She was loathe to clarify the issue with Phyllis, however, because she feared her team leader would either be angry she hadn’t been told earlier, or think Delia was unfit for the field. She could feel Winifred waiting expectantly for a response. 

‘I’ll think about it Winifred, but right now I don’t think it’s something I need to worry anyone about. It’s only been a few times, after all. For now, let’s try to get a little rest.’ 

 

As she lay in her camp bed, feeling Winifred relax and fall asleep behind her, Delia wished, not for the first time, that she could truly let her teammate support her. She had even felt the need to lie about the frequency of her nightmares. She longed to just be honest about her fear and worry. But over the years, Delia had fallen into the role of comedian and caretaker so often that her sense of identity had ossified. She was the funny one, the quick-thinking one, the strong one. Opening herself up, revealing her vulnerabilities to Winifred felt impossible. It just wasn’t who she was. She was supposed to be stronger than that. 

But the last month had pushed her to the emotional brink. Holding all of her fear and self-doubt inside was exhausting. Terrifying, visceral dreams had ensured that she hadn’t gotten a full night of sleep since the Reaper had bitten her. And ever since the dance a few nights ago, Patsy had started appearing in the nightmares, an addition that left Delia feeling even more unsettled. 

As she lay awake, Delia felt her thoughts drifting back to where they had so often found themselves in the few days since the dance: Patsy. The day after getting bitten by the Reaper, Delia had been just so profoundly embarrassed. Her utter idiocy had gotten her bitten, and she’d managed to put Patsy in danger too. The redhead could easily have been attacked by a Reaper as well. She could have been killed. Delia would have never forgiven herself. 

She had resolved to see how Patsy treated her, to let the redhead take the lead in their interactions. When Patsy strode in to her isolation tent the next morning exuding detached professionalism, Delia had convinced herself that Patsy would never want to get closer with someone who had behaved so rashly. Not that allowing their relationship to grow would have been a wise move regardless.

No, she had resigned herself to the fact that she and Patsy wouldn’t, _shouldn’t_ really, ever be more than friends. Not that spending time with Patsy wasn’t still utterly delightful. The redhead was kind and thoughtful and quick-witted and surprisingly mischievous. Their blackmail-initiated check-ins had become the highlights of her day. She had been so disappointed when they had to end so she could repair the gate, though she had consoled herself with the thought that she would still get to see Patsy at the dance. 

Ugh. The dance. That night had been such a roller coaster of emotions. 

When it had begun, Delia had been completely taken aback by just how distractingly gorgeous Patsy looked. The emerald green pencil dress Trixie had constructed complimented the redhead’s figure and complexion perfectly. Delia had spent the entire evening psyching herself up to ask Patsy to dance in the eventuality of a more romantic song. 

But then the slow dance had come, and while Delia had worked up the gumption to make her way across the dance floor to ask, the opportunity was never to come. Because…well, Delia still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but she had a sneaking suspicion about what had disturbed Patsy, and the possibility made her heart sink. And made her question the very foundation that Plan B was based on. She couldn’t shake the persistent feeling that there was something, something big, that they were missing. 

When Patsy had pushed Delia violently away and run, pale and stricken from the tent, Delia’s first step had been to go to Trixie. But while the blonde hadn’t seen Patsy leave, she had assured Delia that the redhead preferred to be left alone in moments of emotional distress. To have the time and space to gather her thoughts and rein in her emotions. But this didn’t make any sense to Delia. Patsy had been truly disturbed, and had run out of the tent looking utterly terrified. Delia couldn’t even begin to imagine making a friend go through something like that with no support. 

So she had followed her. And Patsy let Delia hold her, and sang with her, and shared with her, and trusted her, and Delia had just been so incredibly…honoured. When they re-entered the dance, she hadn’t left the redhead’s side, slowly coaxing her back out of her shell, getting her to dance and laugh, though not to sing. Delia found she was oddly pleased that Patsy held firm in her conviction to not sing in front of the others. It made Delia feel…special. Like there was a part of Patsy that was reserved only for her.

When the dance was finally over, they had lingered and while Delia knew she never wanted the evening to end, she was surprised to see that Patsy seemed to feel the same way. Delia realized that perhaps she had been rash in thinking that Patsy wouldn’t want to get closer. That maybe she had projected her own feelings of guilt and awkwardness onto the redhead. This possibility excited and terrified her in equal measure. 

Over the next couple of days, as her nightmares worsened, these additional emotional revelations, stacked on top of her already pervasive feelings of guilt and self-doubt, had been too much to handle. 

Feeling completely overwhelmed, she had coped primarily by withdrawing completely into herself. She knew this reaction had profoundly confused Patsy, which only increased her guilt and sent her spiralling downward even further. The last few days had been some of the most confusing and exhausting of Delia’s life. She sighed, wishing she could just get some restful sleep. 

Suddenly, the incendiary alarm began blaring, rousing her teammates from their slumbers. Winifred dutifully rolled over onto her own camp bed, an arrangement they had agreed upon so that the other two wouldn’t suspect anything was amiss. 

They all got up and threw on their clothes with mechanical efficiency, Barbara helping Phyllis once her own uniform was in place. Incendiaries had been dropped every night for the past week, leaving them well practiced in preparing in the dark.

Running out, they quickly took their usual places at the pumps and hoses, wetting down as many of the projectiles as they could before they landed, and putting out any fires started by ones they missed. It somehow managed to be both tedious and adrenaline inciting, the combination of which was utterly exhausting. 

Tonight, they managed to escape without any major fires breaking out, a victory that Winifred and Barbara were eager to celebrate with a warm breakfast. But feeling dejected and wanting to be alone, Delia made her way slowly back to their tent, where she ate a stale nutrition bar before lying down to try to catch at least an hour of sleep, hopefully unperturbed by her relentless nightmares. 

 

_______________________

 

‘But if we put that final bar across the gate to reinforce it structurally, it could interfere with our sliding mechanism, and having the gate slide open was one of our primary security upgrades.’

‘Mmmhmm. Sliding…’

‘Delia! Are you even listening?’ Barbara sounded exasperated. 

Delia _did_ have to admit she hadn’t been particularly focused today. Or at any point during the gate-building project, for that matter. 

‘I’m sorry Barbara. I guess I’m just a little—‘ 

‘Tired? Out of it? Preoccupied? I know. You’ve been saying it for days…and you haven’t really been yourself for weeks.’ Barbara stopped their walk to the dining tent and turned to make direct eye contact with her fellow spy, ‘Delia, I _do_ wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. It’s not like you to be so… _disengaged_ during a construction project. You haven’t even perked up at the thought of getting to design a totally new opening mechanism.’ 

Delia paused to consider. Could she confide in Barbara? She had no doubt her earnest teammate would provide an empathetic ear, but she feared Barbara’s compulsion to ‘do the right thing’ would make her feel obligated to report the situation to Phyllis. She wasn’t sure that was a risk she was willing to take. But maybe Barbara would be willing to just listen? 

Delia had apparently been silent long enough to make her fellow spy feel the need to continue. Barbara spoke hurriedly, as if worried she had already made a mistake.

‘I’m sure that if you needed to take a little break or something, from being out in the field, I mean, it would be just fine. There are protocols in place which allow for recuperation time in the event of traumatic incidents.’ 

Delia froze. _Of course_ there was a protocol, and of _course_ Barbara knew it. This was exactly what she had feared. That she would be viewed as incompetent. Incapable. That she could do nothing but let her team down.

She needed to distract Barbara and lighten the mood…quickly. So she deflected the best way she knew how. 

Plastering on a huge smile, she spoke jovially, ‘Barbara Gilbert, are you trying to get rid of me?’ 

Barbara looked completely taken aback. ‘What? No, that’s not what I—‘ 

Delia reached out and nudged her ruffled counterpart with her elbow, ‘Perhaps to try to open up space on the team for someone with more _masculine_ dashing good looks? Perhaps someone like Tom?’ 

‘Delia. No…I don’t mean…I mean, I don’t want—‘ 

‘You mean you _wouldn’t_ want Tom on the team? If the opportunity arose?’ 

Barbara was now utterly turned around and completely flustered. ‘No, I mean…yes…I mean, Tom’s fine, and nice, and I suppose that would be fine, but that’s not what I meant…’ 

Delia laughed, ‘I know, I’m sorry, Babs. I’m just joking with you. Thanks for checking in, but everything’s fine.’ 

Barbara looked at Delia sceptically, as if uncertain of how to proceed. ‘Are you sure?’ 

Delia put on what she hoped was her most reassuring face, ‘Absolutely. I really am just a little tired. Maybe a combination of the camp bed and Phyllis’ snoring is finally getting to me. I’ll see if I can borrow Trixie’s camping mat and some ear plugs.’ 

Barbara seemed placated by these concrete solutions, and with a nod, she began walking towards the dining tent again. Delia followed, feeling a little guilty for having so baldly manipulated her friend. Was all of this stress making her a bad person? Great, another thing to add to her growing list of things to worry about. Did every single thing have to be so utterly exhausting? 

She was distracted from her self-flagellation by Phyllis’ voice ringing out.

‘Delia. Barbara. Come back to the tent with me for a moment before dinner, please. I have some news.’

Without waiting for a response, she turned and made her way towards their shared quarters, Delia and Barbara following dutifully behind. 

They entered the tent to find Winifred already there, sitting on her bed staring worriedly at the computer mumbling to herself about something seeming off. 

‘Is everything alright, Winifred?’ Phyllis seemed more perturbed than concerned. 

‘What? Oh, yes. I mean, I _think_ so, at least. Was there any strange interference on the line when you were talking to HQ?’

‘Not that I noticed.’ 

‘It’s just that I’m getting some odd feedback on that secure frequency we created. Hmmm…I…I guess I’ll check in with HQ about it. Make sure everything still looks good on their end.’ 

Phyllis nodded tersely, ‘Right, well, if you don’t need any guidance on that front, I think I’ll go ahead and update all of you on our latest communication.’ She manoeuvred her chair so she was facing Delia and Barbara. Winifred got off the bed and came to stand next to them. 

‘It appears that the final phase of Plan B has _not_ been approved. HQ was pleased enough with the progress we made before we were discovered that they think a fresh batch of undercover agents is the best way forward. They’re sending in Mary Cynthia, Jenny and Alec.’ 

‘So our mission is over? We’re leaving Camp Poplar?’ Delia was completely unprepared for the force with which the disparate feelings of relief and sadness hit her. Relief that this confounding mission was over, that she wouldn’t have to be spying on these women any longer. But an even larger sadness that she would, in all likelihood, never see Patsy again. The stomach-punching force of this last feeling took her completely by surprise, and its implications planted a fresh ball of anxiety firmly in her gut. 

‘Actually, no. HQ is quite satisfied with how well we’ve integrated into camp life, and they want to keep us here as a back up plan of sorts, in case the three of them don’t succeed. This mission is far and away the Bloc’s top priority, so Plan B remains in a bit of a holding pattern for the foreseeable future. You’d best get comfortable here.’ 

Delia felt ill. All of the relief she had felt instantly dissipated, leaving behind only the sinking realization that she was going to have to deal with reining in her feelings for Patsy for ‘the foreseeable future.’ 

Barbara, however, remained focused on logistics, ‘But Phyllis, you’ll be healed at least enough to walk within a week or so, at which point Julienne will undoubtedly expect us to be heading back up to the Bloc. How on earth are you going to convince her to let us stay? She quite obviously isn’t overly enamoured with our presence.’ 

‘You let me worry about that. You ladies focus on securing that gate. Intel chatter indicates that the Council seems to be preparing for some kind of action, and this camp’s security appears to be woefully unprepared. How are those other perimeter improvements we discussed progressing?’ 

Barbara shot an uncomfortable sideways glance at Delia, whose less than stellar attitude had prevented them from moving as efficiently as they could have. ‘Fairly well, though we’ve only just started. The gate itself is taking a bit longer than anticipated. Also, keeping Evangelina distracted has proven surprisingly difficult. She seems to be able to sniff out when we’re working on an ‘unapproved area’ like a bloodhound.’ 

Phyllis seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘I suspect that we may have found an area where I can actually be quite useful despite my limited mobility, which makes for a refreshing change. Let’s set an hour each day when you’ll work on those areas. At the agreed-upon time, I’ll poke around suspiciously somewhere. If there’s one thing Evangelina’s better at seeking out than work in unauthorized areas, it’s me preparing to make something more efficient.’ She chuckled lightly and then gave a resolute nod, signalling the end of the conversation. ‘Now, with all of that settled, shall we go to dinner?’ 

As the Quartet filed out of their tent, Delia hung back ever so slightly from the others, attempting to process her unexpected reactions. 

Phyllis’ voice roused her from her thoughts. 

‘Delia, you seem in another world an awful lot lately. Is everything alright?’ Her voice was unusually soft, her tone caring. 

Delia looked down at her. She longed to tell the older woman about her dreams and her doubts about herself, and about Plan B. To get her advice, to problem solve. She’d never opened up to Phyllis before, but she knew the woman cared deeply about her, despite her gruff exterior. Could she safely share with her? 

Phyllis interrupted her train of thought, ‘If this mission is too much for you Delia, we could always…’ 

Delia’s heart clenched as her worst fears were realized. Phyllis thought she couldn’t cut it. That she was too weak. Too damaged. She had already disappointed her. Revealing her weaknesses would only let her down further. Delia cut her off quickly. 

‘No! It’s not that. It’s just…well, we’re so very cramped, all four of us in that tiny tent. There’s barely even room for you to manoeuvre your chair, and it’s, well…it’s been making it hard for me to sleep. And now that we’re staying here longer term…’ 

Phyllis chuckled, ‘Is it really the size of the tent, Delia? If I recall, you and Winifred lived for quite some time in that van of yours, which seems like infinitely closer quarters. If my snoring is keeping you up, you can just say so.’ 

Delia smiled, feeling an intense sense of relief that Phyllis had provided her such a convenient way out, ‘Well, I didn’t want to say anything. I mean, it’s not your fault, after all.’ 

‘I hate to think you’ve been letting yourself get so worked up about this, Delia. Once I’ve confirmed with Julienne that we’re staying, I’ll talk to Mrs Turner and see if she can provide us with some more comfortable _separate_ accommodations. Until then, perhaps you could borrow some earplugs from someone. I promise I won’t be offended.’ 

And with that, Phyllis sped ahead to catch up with Barbara and Winifred, leaving Delia behind to slowly make her way towards dinner. She had now lied to all three of her teammates in addition to letting them down. She hunched her shoulders, longing to be able to fold in on herself. To just escape to some far corner of the world and sleep forever without any cares or responsibilities. 

‘Come on Delia, you’re going to miss dinner! Monica Joan made chicken stew!’ Winifred ducked back into the dining tent. Her profound enjoyment of any kind of home cooking was utterly endearing. 

Delia sighed to herself. She wished she could share Winifred’s enthusiasm, but in this instant, she didn’t know if she’d ever been less hungry. 

 

_____________________

 

Delia wandered slowly from the dining tent. She knew she should have stayed with everyone else to help clean up after dinner, but she’d just needed to get away. She’d spent most of dinner staring off into space, but when she _had_ looked up she’d noticed Patsy giving her concerned glances from across the table. She’d tried to send over reassuring smiles, but she could tell that none of them had been convincing. 

As she walked, she tried to tamp down the influx of emotions that were roiling within her. Was she too weak, too incompetent to be on the team? The prospect of weeks, maybe months, of deception and denial of her feelings stretched before her. Maintaining a façade when there was a clear mission with a concrete goal was one thing. But at this point, their entire objective appeared to be to hang around and not arouse suspicion, two aims that seemed by their very nature to be largely contradictory. 

Though she trusted Phyllis to think of a plausible excuse for their presence, she knew that continuing to awkwardly keep Patsy at arm’s length would eventually become suspicious in and of itself. Her feelings were too strong to mask.

She felt like she was trapped in an impossible situation. She had already let down her teammates so many times, and now she felt she was certain to fail them again. She felt incapable and inadequate and very very foolish. She felt her pace increasing, needing to walk out her doubt and anxiety.

Suddenly a voice rang out, startling her, ‘I thought I’d find you out here wandering about. You _did_ say that you weren’t one to sit and stew.’ 

Delia turned to see Patsy meandering towards her, a warm and slightly mischievous half-smile on her face. Shit. Delia simply couldn’t handle the prospect of Patsy being caring and… _cute_ right now. 

‘Oh, Patsy, hi.’ Her tone was icier than she wanted and she flinched internally when she saw the redhead’s smile fade. She rushed to recover. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just…tired and…I’ve spent so much time around people lately. I wanted a little walk by myself to just…get some space. Some time to think.’ 

Patsy’s brow furrowed as Delia stumbled through what she knew was a weak explanation. The redhead eyed her sceptically as she rocked back and forth, itching to be moving, to be _away_ from this situation. 

‘Delia, is everything alright? You’ve seemed…well…you haven’t seemed yourself lately. Is there anything I can do? Is there anything you need?’ 

Delia felt her stomach drop. She hadn’t dared to confide in anyone else, but getting support from Patsy? That felt like the worst idea of all. Her feelings towards the redhead were already dangerous, and while this entire situation was very new to her, Delia knew enough to know that if she relied on Patsy for support, her emotions could get beyond the point where she could rein them back in. She needed to get out of this situation. She tried to affect her cheeriest voice.

‘Oh no, it really is just that I’m tired. I don’t know how you’ve managed to sleep on one of those uncomfortable camp beds for so long. I suppose not having to contend with Phyllis’ snoring helps. Barbara found a spare pair of earplugs, so maybe I’ll have more luck tonight. For right now, though, I just want to go on a little walk and have some time to think.’ 

Looking into Patsy’s worried eyes, Delia could tell she hadn’t been convincing. Patsy could see right through her. Her heart sank. Yet another supposed skill of hers had failed her. She felt a flash of anger. 

Just then Patsy reached out and lightly touched her arm, ‘Delia…’ she began softly. 

Delia cut her off, yanking her arm away. She saw Patsy flinch slightly. ‘Really, Patsy, I’m fine. I just want to be alone.’ 

She turned and began to walk purposefully away.

Patsy’s voice rang out behind her, sounding apprehensive but determined. 

‘You know, you don’t always have to be the strong one.’

Delia, stopped, turning back to the redhead. 

‘Excuse me?’

‘I said, you don’t always have to be the strong one. Or at least not in the way that you think. I watch you, you know. How you always try to take care of Winifred and not disappoint Nurse Crane, and make Barbara laugh. And I don’t know if it’s because you feel like you’d be a burden or if you don’t think anyone else will truly understand how you’re feeling, but you don’t have to pretend nothing’s happened. We all do that too much of the time, and it’s utterly exhausting. In the last month you’ve seen your friends badly beaten, undertaken a dramatic rescue, had something upset you enough to feel compelled to sneak out of camp, got bitten by a Reaper, almost died from your immune response, and now it’s patently obvious you’re having trouble sleeping. After all of that, _anyone_ would be absolutely drained. And that’s alright. It’s alright to feel overwhelmed and run down and in need of support. Needing support doesn’t make you weak.’ The side of her mouth turned up in a small half-smile, ‘Julienne has to remind me of that on a fairly constant basis. It’s alright to ask for support, Delia, from whoever feels safest to you. You don’t have to worry about seeming inadequate or incompetent. Sometimes knowing you need help _makes_ you the strong one.’ She took a tentative step forward, ‘You don’t have to go through this alone.’ 

Delia was completely dumbfounded as she took in Patsy standing in front of her, looking an uneasy mixture of nervous and resolute. Her thoughts raced. She _was_ so drained and overwhelmed and run down, and she desperately wanted to not feel so alone. Her heart yearned to reach out, to be comforted by the woman in front of her who had apparently been paying such close attention. Who was far more perceptive than she’d given her credit for. 

But no, that was a truly disastrous idea. She croaked out the only reply she could think of. 

‘I…I can’t’

Oddly, this response seemed to calm Patsy, who took a step forward, maintaining eye contact. When she spoke, her voice was soft and patient. 

‘Delia, why did you follow me out of the dance the other night?’ 

That was definitely _not_ what Delia had expected. She was shocked the redhead had brought up her own emotionally vulnerable moment. Caught off guard, she blurted out the truth. 

‘Because you seemed so upset, and I didn’t think you should go through that alone.’ 

Patsy gave a brief nod and then cocked her head to the side, ‘Then why do you seem to think that you _should_ have to go through all of this alone? You’re just as deserving of support.’ 

Delia could feel her resolve slipping. She latched onto the one idea she had left to cling to. She _wouldn’t_ be a burden.

‘But you need _my_ support. I can’t ask you to support me. That’s too much.’ 

To Delia’s complete surprise, Patsy actually _smiled_ at that. 

‘Delia, I may not know a great deal about emotional support between friends, but I’m fairly certain it’s not meant to be a one-way street. I’ll be the first to admit I have my share of baggage, and that you saw me the other night at a particularly bad time, but I’m stronger than I look. I let you walk away to be alone once when you were obviously distraught, and you got bitten by a Reaper. I’m not letting you walk away to be alone again. You obviously need _someone_ , and while I can’t promise I’ll always do the right thing, I...well, I’d very much like the opportunity to try.’ 

As Patsy got increasingly awkward over the course of this declaration, it finally dawned on Delia just how much bravery it must have taken Patsy to approach her. Just how hard the redhead was trying. 

Patsy took one step closer, leaving them about an arms length apart. She took a deep, slightly shaky breath. 

‘Is it alright if I give you a hug, Delia, or would you prefer not?’ 

Patsy using Delia’s own question was such a wonderfully earnest affirmation of Delia’s own actions several days prior. It was simply too much for the brunette to handle.

Delia took a sudden step forward and wrapped her arms tightly around the redhead with a vice-like grip, nestling her cheek firmly into the crook of Patsy’s shoulder. Patsy tensed for a brief moment, before relaxing, and enveloping Delia in a warm hug. 

The moment Patsy’s arms closed around her, the last remnants of Delia’s resolve crumbled completely. The hurricane of emotions that had been roiling inside of her for the past few weeks utterly swamped any ability she may have had to maintain her composure. She felt hot tears spring to her eyes and soon her body was wracked by uncontrollable sobs. All of the fear and guilt and pain and self-doubt of the last month rushed to the surface, demanding to be felt, to be acknowledged. 

Somehow, even through her emotional upheaval, Delia was aware that Patsy must be profoundly uncomfortable, but to the redhead’s great credit, she didn’t let on. She just held Delia and rubbed her back as Delia cried and cried and cried, releasing weeks of pent-up tension.

 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Delia’s sobs faded to shuddering breaths and then the occasional sniffle. She didn’t release herself from Patsy’s embrace, however, instead enjoying the profound comfort of just being held. She basked in the unfamiliar sensation of emotional release. Of feeling safe and warm and completely at home. When Patsy finally spoke, Delia heard it primarily as a rumble through the redhead’s chest.

‘I’m sorry that it took me so long to come find you, Deels. I’m sorry you had to be alone. Thank you, though, for trusting me.’

With those words, the wall Delia had been unwillingly keeping up between them crumbled completely. Patsy _had_ come and found her. Had refused to be pushed away. Had refused to let her be alone. 

Delia realized that there was so much about this mission, this situation, that was uncertain. How long would they be there? What would happen with Plan B? Where would this relationship with Patsy lead? 

She was aware that confiding in Patsy wasn’t professional. That it was reckless, and maybe even dangerous. But in this moment she realized that she didn’t care. As she stood there, clinging tightly to the one person who had known exactly what she needed, she knew one thing _was_ certain: she was never going to let go.


	9. Phyllis

Phyllis stared at the computer screen as she waited for the call to HQ to go through. While recent check-ins hadn’t been especially enjoyable, she was particularly dreading this update. Their new mission director was undoubtedly not going to be pleased with what she had to say. 

The call was accepted and the hard, cold voice rang out over the speakers, ‘Agent Crane, I trust you have some good news for me this evening.’ 

Phyllis sighed. This was going to be unpleasant. ‘Good evening, Ursula. Unfortunately, I’m not able to oblige on that front. I fear that Plan B has hit a bit of an unexpected bump in the road.’ 

This declaration was greeted by several moments of silence. Finally, the voice returned, bristling with irritation, ‘A bump in the road? Agent Crane, I realize that we have been slow with our authorizations, but when we approved the final phase of Plan B several days ago, it was because time was of the essence. I know you’re not sure she’s ready, but of you’re purposefully dragging your feet…’ 

‘I assure you that’s not the case. There was an incident…’ 

‘An incident? What kind of incident?’ 

‘She had a very strong reaction to a song. At the camp dance. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone more terrified.’ 

‘You’re telling me you want to delay Plan B because Patience Mount was scared of a song?’ 

Phyllis bristled at the edge of mockery in Ursula’s disbelieving tone, as well as her breach of protocol. ‘Not just any song. With all due respect, I understand the time-sensitive nature of this undertaking, but I strongly believe that there is something, something essential, that we are missing. I don’t think we have the whole story here, and some of our false assumptions may put the entire mission in jeopardy. Additionally, I would remind you it is a breach of protocol to use the full name of an asset, even over secured frequencies. Her codename is Crimson.’ 

She knew chastising her superior, especially one that was so new, was a line she shouldn’t cross, but it was those kinds of breaches of security that cost lives. When Ursula spoke again, her tone was icy. 

‘Whether you’re convinced we have the whole story or not, she remains the only person we know who might be able to gain access to the house.’ 

‘That’s my point exactly. If this really is our best opportunity to get into the house, we don’t want to squander it because we didn’t do our due diligence. I’ve been at this job for a long time, and I’ve developed a sense about these things. We don’t have the whole story and she just doesn’t trust us yet. I need more time.’ 

This final declaration was greeted with a prolonged period of what sounded like static. Phyllis realized Ursula must have put her on hold to check in with the committee. Good. It meant that maybe the mission director had heard her pleas. 

Eventually, the cold voice crackled through the speakers once more. ‘I have spoken to the committee, and we have decided to give you your time. But we can’t sit around and do nothing while we wait. We’re going to send Miller, Lee and Jesmond in to the compound to check on your intelligence and see if they can obtain the new viral formula. They’ve never been before, so _they_ should be able to avoid detection.’ 

Phyllis winced. HQ had reached the conclusion that the Quartet’s cover had been blown at the compound because Barbara had been undercover there several years before, when Delia had injected the virus. Phyllis strongly disagreed with this theory, and knew that Ursula had referenced it solely to provoke a response. Well, it wouldn’t work.

‘Thank you, Ursula. I appreciate your trust in my instincts.’ 

Phyllis looked down at the keyboard, prepared to end the call when Ursula spoke again. There was something about her tone that raised the old spy’s hackles. The mission director’s voice was laced with hints of self-satisfaction, like a hunter who knows his prey is cornered. It made Phyllis profoundly uneasy.

‘Speaking of _trust_ , Agent Crane, in a previous check-in, you mentioned that our _asset_ seems to have taken a particular liking to Agent Busby. Am I correct in assuming she shares Agent Busby’s _proclivities_?’

Phyllis was taken aback, both by Ursula’s tone and her knowledge of Nurse Mount’s affinity for Delia. She had mentioned that snippet of information before Mr Newgarden had stepped down as mission director for health reasons. He must have written it into the transition report. 

‘If you’re referring to Crimson’s sexuality, I’m quite certain that I don’t know. Whether or not she’s a lesbian doesn’t seem particularly relevant.’ 

‘Now I’m confident you know very well that that’s not true. Perhaps that relationship can be utilized to our advantage. To establish trust quickly. To ascertain this _piece_ you feel we’re missing.’ 

She felt a ball of anxiety settle in her stomach as she remembered Delia’s expression when she had run after Nurse Mount at the dance. And the way they had looked at each other when they came back in. Delia had successfully carried out a seduction mission once before, but this would be very different. This time there were already pre-existing feelings. Phyllis felt her protective instincts activate.

‘While Agent Busby has many strengths, long-term emotional deception isn’t one of them, particularly when the mark is a non-Redemptionist. I don’t think she’s well suited for that kind of mission.’ 

‘I’m not sure she needs to know it’s part of the mission.’ 

Phyllis felt an icy dread seep into the pit of her stomach. This could destroy the Quartet. ‘You want me to _lie_ to a member of my team?’

Ursula’s voice remained cold, ‘I’m simply suggesting you do what is necessary to ensure that _Crimson_ comes to trust Agent Busby implicitly.’ 

‘I hope you understand what that kind of breach of trust could mean for the success of future missions.’ 

‘Agent Crane, I’m not sure you fully understand the importance of this mission to the Solidarity Bloc. If we aren’t successful in obtaining the new virus and discovering an effective repellent, then there may not _be_ any future missions. We were extremely lucky only canids could serve as hosts for the original virus. We might not be so fortunate with this newest version. Other hosts could be much more difficult to repel. If the intelligence you collected during your time in the compound proves to be accurate, then we need to get into that house, and time is of the essence. Crimson remains our best chance of doing so, in spite of your _instincts_.’ 

Phyllis felt a bit cowed. She _knew_ how important this mission was. But to keep a member of her own team in the dark? That was too much. Still…so much was at stake. 

‘I understand, Ursula. Once again, thank you for the additional time.’

‘You’re welcome Agent Crane. And one more thing. Please remember that _no one_ is more important than the cause. Not you, not agent Busby, not our _asset_. Our spy teams must all be fit and ready to face the moral challenges of our current time. If you cannot handle making the difficult decisions this job requires, you can find another. No one is beyond replacing.’

And with that, she ended the call. 

Phyllis sat staring at the screen for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened. Had her job really just been threatened? She had served as an effective and dedicated spy for the Solidarity Bloc for fifteen years, leaving her nursing career directly after the Reckoning. What on earth would she do if she couldn’t serve any longer? It was her whole life. 

And what about Delia? The young woman had been a spy ever since Phyllis had found her and Winifred living in Delia’s van and recruited the brilliant pair. Delia had been seventeen. She had served the Bloc faithfully, with sometimes perhaps too much dedication, for the seven years since. Seven years. Could Phyllis really throw away seven years of trust? Of teamwork? Of coming to care for Delia like a daughter? Especially because, while Delia had obviously been troubled in the month since her bite, over the last several days she had become what could only be described as distraught. It was plainly evident that what she needed now was support. And Phyllis longed to be there for her. 

But, of course, as repulsive as her tone was, Ursula was right. This was about so much more than her feelings. Or Delia’s, for that matter. Millions of lives depended on the success of this mission. The very survival of the Bloc could be at risk. And Nurse Mount was their best, and maybe their only, chance. Phyllis sighed. She knew what she had to do. 

Just then, Winifred stuck her head back in to the tent. ‘Good evening, Phyllis. Are you all set there?’ 

Phyllis took a breath to focus herself, ‘Yes, Winifred, thank you. You may close out the secure connection. I have an update for all of us, so I’ll go and fetch the other two while you take care of that.’ 

She exited the tent and immediately spied Barbara and Delia a little ways off, deep in what seemed to be a tense conversation. Delia looked like she was about to say something when Barbara spoke. Phyllis saw Delia go rigid for a moment before smiling broadly and obviously ribbing Barbara. A classic deflection. Interesting. They spoke for a few moments more before heading towards the dining tent. Phyllis called out. 

‘Delia. Barbara. Come back to the tent with me for a moment before dinner, please. I have some news.’

She returned to the tent to find Winifred looking worriedly at the computer. 

‘Is everything alright, Winifred?’ 

‘What? Oh, yes. I mean, I _think_ so, at least. Was there any strange interference on the line when you were talking to HQ?’

She knew she should trust the young woman’s instincts when it came to computerized systems, but right now she was too preoccupied with what she was about to do. She’d never baldly deceived her team before. She quickly wrapped up her exchange with Winifred, and the three young women gathered on one side of the tent. Phyllis took a deep breath and, for the first time in seven years of partnership, she lied to her team. 

‘It appears that the final phase of Plan B has _not_ been approved. HQ was pleased enough with the progress we made before we were discovered that they think a fresh batch of undercover agents is the best way forward. They’re sending in Mary Cynthia, Jenny and Alec.’ 

‘So our mission is over? We’re leaving Camp Poplar?’

Phyllis had expected to see the relief in Delia’s eyes. She knew this had been a difficult mission so far for the young spy. What she _hadn’t_ expected to see was the sadness, which was followed swiftly by anxiety. What was going on in that woman’s head? 

She kept an eye on Delia as the conversation progressed. The brunette looked ashen and almost a little…green? Phyllis was concerned, but diverted her attention to Barbara. She _was_ going to have to figure out how to convince Julienne to let them stay, but she would work that out later. She caught the look Barbara shot at Delia when asked about progress on the perimeter fence. Barbara tried valiantly to cover for her teammate, but it appeared Delia’s malaise was affecting her work. At least the Evangelina problem was easy to solve, and it _would_ be nice to feel useful once again. 

‘Now, with all of that settled, shall we go to dinner?’ 

As the rest of the team filed out of the tent, Delia hung back ever so slightly from the others. She looked utterly miserable. Phyllis couldn’t help herself. 

‘Delia, you seem in another world an awful lot lately. Is everything alright?’

As she looked into the brunette’s eyes, she could tell that Delia was on the verge of talking to her. Of finally unburdening herself after weeks of inner torment. Phyllis wanted so much to be there for her, to comfort the young spy who was obviously struggling so mightily. 

But she suddenly realized that this was a golden opportunity that she couldn’t afford to pass up. Delia wouldn’t expose her vulnerabilities to Winifred, and Phyllis suspected the young spy had just passed up the chance to confide in Barbara. Phyllis had been watching Nurse Mount working up the courage to approach the obviously floundering brunette for days. If Delia felt she couldn’t talk to Phyllis either, she would be much more likely to take Nurse Mount’s offer of support when it came. And trust was, after all, a two way street. 

So Phyllis hardened her heart, and said the one thing she knew would destroy any chance of Delia confiding in her, ‘If this mission is too much for you Delia, we could always…’ 

A look of pure pain and panic flashed across the brunette’s face, making Phyllis’ heart ache with guilt. She knew that there was nothing in the entire world Delia feared more than disappointing those she cared about. And she _knew_ that’s how her words had made Delia feel. That she had let them all down. That Phyllis thought she was incompetent. 

‘No! It’s not that. It’s just…well, we’re so very cramped, all four of us in that tiny tent. There’s barely even room for you to manoeuvre your chair, and it’s, well…it’s been making it hard for me to sleep. And now that we’re staying here longer term…’ 

Taking pity on her, Phyllis gave Delia an out. Brought up her own snoring. Offered to coordinate a room change. Suggested earplugs. And then she abruptly left, not trusting herself to maintain the charade any longer, knowing how much her words must have hurt. 

As she entered the dining tent, Phyllis sent up a small prayer that tonight would be the night that Nurse Mount would finally work up the courage to approach Delia. After what Phyllis had just done, the poor girl was going to need all the support she could get. 

 

_______________________

 

The blaring of the incendiary alarms jolted Phyllis out of her dreamless sleep. She groaned and swore to herself. They had dropped incendiaries every bloody night since the dance. Eleven straight days of early morning bombardment. Of being jolted awake, of trying to avoid disaster, of feeling completely and utterly useless. 

It was this last one that stung the most. She _knew_ that she had a tendency to be abrasive, but normally her strategy of leading-by-example helped to mitigate the effects of her prickly demeanour. Everyone appreciated a conscientious hard worker, giving her a chance to _show_ , rather than just have to tell, why her methods were superior. But thanks to her injuries, in the month and a half since they had arrived, all she had been able to offer were opinions. For someone who defined her self worth by her ability to contribute, it was absolutely maddening. 

She went to the medical tent nearly every day, and found that her nursing knowledge came back quickly, but she felt unable to do anything. She was sure there were one-armed nurses, but they had years of practice and didn’t have to use their one good arm to pivot their chair. As it was, she had to rely on Winifred to hold supplies, apply bandages, lift things, and do everything, really. And while there was a part of her that enjoyed teaching the enthusiastic, if somewhat skittish, young spy, she longed to be self-sufficient. 

Her diminished capability had also hindered her ability to form meaningful relationships with the camp’s residents. This was particularly frustrating in the case of Nurse Mount, as Phyllis sensed that the young woman was something of a kindred spirit. They both appreciated efficiency and cleanliness, and Phyllis was always impressed by the young nurse’s capacity to push through her exhaustion to care for her patients. But because Nurse Mount hadn’t been able to see that side of Phyllis, the older nurse had the sense that the redhead viewed her primarily as an annoyance, and a mildly comical one at that. 

In fact, the only person she’d been able to get to know at all was Jane, who had been assigned to assist Phyllis with her physical therapy and rehab as she healed. How the painfully shy woman had been designated that particular task, she couldn’t be sure, though she suspected it was because everyone else was too busy. The assignment had proven a fortuitous one for Phyllis, however, as she had over the weeks gotten the chance to get to know the full extent of Jane’s abilities with explosives. And the breadth of the woman’s knowledge had given her an idea. 

‘Come along, Phyllis, I’ll help you with your uniform.’ 

Barbara’s calm voice jolted her out of her thoughts. She harrumphed into a sitting position and the young spy began their daily routine of getting Phyllis out of her nightgown and into her uniform. Phyllis had insisted on wearing a camp-issue uniform despite her injuries, hoping it would help them fit in. Barbara had gamely altered one pant leg and sleeve so the clothing could fit around Phyllis’ various casts and slings. 

Phyllis considered the young woman who was currently concentrating on buttoning up her uniform front, a task Phyllis had yet to be able to perfect one-handed. She was a good, dedicated spy, and the older woman knew that when the time came to reveal that they were leaving Delia in the dark, Barbara would comply in spite of her misgivings. She would understand that the mission was more important than even the team. 

She glanced over at Winifred, who was laughing at something Delia had said as the two of them hurried out of the tent. The young computer expert would have to be handled with considerably more care. Her loyalty to Delia was much more deeply rooted. Phyllis decided that she would cross that bridge when she came to it. 

‘There, you’re all set. I’m going to run out and man my pump station. See you at lunch.’ 

‘Thank you, Barbara.’

Phyllis sighed as the brunette rushed out of the tent. She felt the most incapable during incendiary drops. Previously, she had tried to help organize the response and spot falling projectiles, but eventually Barbara had sat and nervously explained to her that, given the stressful nature of the endeavour, her well-meaning assistance was not necessarily appreciated. Even Monica Joan had bristled at her request to help in the preparation of morning drinks. Now she just spent these moments sitting in their tent, doing her rehabilitation exercises and trying to think of how to contribute. 

At least she had an hour of distracting Evangelina at the end of the day to look forward to. Diverting the grumpy nurse’s attention was the one thing that she alone was uniquely suited to. It felt so good to feel useful. 

 

___________________________

 

‘…and that way, I can tell exactly how much is left by checking the logbook. It sounds complicated, but it’s actually deceptively simple and really quite effective.’ Nurse Mount finished her explanation and glanced nervously between Phyllis and Evangelina. 

The redhead looked so profoundly uncomfortable that Phyllis couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her. Knowing that the stock taking systems were undoubtedly meticulously organized, she’d been trying to avoid bothering the chief logistics officer as part of her Evangelina distraction missions. However, she’d already poked around pretty much every other area of camp. 

‘That all seems quite efficient, Nurse Mount, but wouldn’t everything be so much easier if the systems were computerized? Surely it would save you a tremendous amount of time.’ 

Phyllis knew of course why running a computerized system was impossibly impractical, but she needed to keep Evangelina here for another several minutes, and this was bait that she was sure to take. The old nurse obliged.

‘A _computerized_ system?!? Nurse Crane, you seem to be under the misconception that we have unlimited electricity here. Our one generator runs solely for medical equipment or special occasions. Everything else is from solar and wind battery storage, a fact that you would know if…’

Evangelina continued her rant, but Phyllis wasn’t really listening. Instead, she watched Nurse Mount, noticing that the redhead seemed to also have phased out, her eyes slightly glassy with a far off look. Phyllis couldn’t really blame her. 

‘…isn’t that right, Nurse Mount?’ 

The young nurse was suddenly jolted to the present, her eyes filled with that anxiety unique to when one’s been asked a question but hasn’t been paying attention. 

‘Ummm…yes, of course, Evangelina, that’s entirely accurate.’ 

‘You see? And every member of camp will tell you just the same. Which is why even when Cynthia was here and suggested tablets…’ 

Evangelina droned on and Nurse Mount phased out again, her eyes getting a far off, almost dreamy look, and a slight smile creeping to the corner of her lips. Phyllis wondered what she was thinking about. Her wistful expression made her look so very young. The old spy felt a pang of sadness. A part of her wished she could shield the nurse from what was coming. From the choice she would have to make. 

Phyllis looked down at her watch and saw that the necessary time had passed. Delia and Barbara would just have finished up their perimeter work, and would no doubt be making their way to the dining tent. She waited for Evangelina to take a breath. 

‘You’re absolutely right, Evangelina. I don’t know why I hadn’t considered that before. Well, I think we can both agree that the stock systems are as efficient as can be expected under the circumstances.’ 

The older nurse looked a bit bewildered both by Phyllis’ interruption and the conciliatory nature of her comment. 

‘Well, I’m glad we have found _some_ system in this camp that meets your _exacting_ standards, Nurse Crane. Now if you don’t mind, I have other things to attend to this evening.’ And with that she spun around and exited. 

Phyllis turned to the confused redhead, who seemed to be wondering what had just happened. 

‘Thank you, Nurse Mount, for taking the time to explain your system to me. I’m quite impressed with its effectiveness, given the context in which you work.’

The redhead looked down at Phyllis and gave a small smile, ‘It was my pleasure Nurse Crane. I do hope that your planned timetable for re-training to walk works out. I know that it must have been very frustrating for the past month or so, to feel so constrained.’ 

Phyllis was a bit taken aback. She certainly was a perceptive young woman, but how had Nurse Mount known her therapy schedule? She was about to ask when a jovial voice rang out from outside the tent. 

‘Knock knock!’ Delia practically hopped into the tent, ‘Hello, Pats!’ 

‘Hello Deels!’ 

Phyllis, momentarily ignored, watched the two of them carefully. While the redhead, clearly aware of the older spy’s presence, did an admirable job of keeping her smile contained, the look in her eyes as she gazed at Delia was one of sheer, unadulterated joy. Giddy delight was reflected back from the brunette, whose face was lit up by a broad, beaming grin. That was, until she saw Phyllis. Upon seeing her teammate sitting watching her, Delia’s face fell and the happiness that had been there a moment before was replaced with awkwardness and guilt. Nurse Mount’s brow furrowed as she looked back and forth between them. 

Phyllis winced internally. If Delia wasn’t careful, she would unintentionally tip Nurse Mount off. Given that they were _supposed_ to simply be here biding their time until Phyllis healed, there was no legitimate reason for the brunette to look so guilty. 

Delia’s uncertain voice broke the uneasy silence that had descended upon the tent. 

‘I was just…uhhh…coming to see if Patsy wanted to discuss…my returning to work with her, on logistics, now that the gate is finished.’ 

Nurse Mount shot Delia an amused half-smile. ‘Were you now? As much as I’d like to discuss that, I think now might actually be the perfect time for you and Nurse Crane to talk. Don’t you?’ 

Delia looked down awkwardly at the floor and nodded. 

Nurse Mount turned to Phyllis, ‘It was lovely to speak with you about my stock taking systems, Nurse Crane.’ She then walked towards the exit, stopping along the way to softly say ‘I’ll see you at dinner’ and give Delia’s shoulder a brief squeeze, before slipping quietly out of the tent. 

Now it was Phyllis’ turn to be completely baffled. What on earth had just happened? Why would she and Delia need to talk? She looked up at the brunette, who was pointedly avoiding making eye contact with her. 

‘Delia? What’s going on?’ 

‘I…I wanted to talk with you about how I was acting last week. To apologize…and to explain.’ Delia walked to where Phyllis was and pulled up a box to sit on opposite her. 

Phyllis was perplexed. In the week since Phyllis had lied to her, Delia had undergone an almost complete change in demeanour. She was back to her bubbly, excited, and highly motivated self. Progress on the gate, which had been sluggish at best, suddenly went into overdrive, and she and Barbara had put the finishing touches on it the day before. Their clandestine perimeter upgrades had also progressed swiftly, and today was the last day Phyllis was assigned to Evangelina distraction duty. 

Delia claimed her personal renaissance was due to the earplugs and camping mat she borrowed nightly from Trixie, but Phyllis had of course suspected it had something to do with Nurse Mount. The sheer joy on Delia’s face as she had bounded into the storage tent confirmed that particular hunch beyond the shadow of a doubt. And Phyllis had been glad that Delia was feeling better. 

But it wasn’t like Delia to want to _talk_ about it with her. The young woman had never really opened up to her before. And the one time she’d looked ready to, Phyllis had rather brutally shut her down. The older spy wondered what had inspired this. Looking up into Delia’s nervous eyes, Phyllis realized she was waiting for a response. She gave the young woman a small smile and nodded that she should continue.

Delia took a deep breath. ‘Well, I _was_ tired, but it wasn’t because of your snoring or the camp bed, but because I’ve been having terrible dreams, nightmares really, that were preventing me from sleeping. And now I’ve been trying to work through what may have been causing them. But I want to start by apologizing for how my attitude was affecting our work…’ 

Delia continued talking, but Phyllis was momentarily distracted by a sudden bolt of realization that shot through her. _Of course_. Delia was talking to her because Nurse Mount had encouraged her to. The redhead must have counselled her to combat her nightmares by addressing their cause. And Delia must have been dragging her feet about talking to Phyllis. Well at least there was an excuse for Delia’s look of guilt. 

Phyllis’ heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as she quickly put together all of the pieces. The caring look Delia had given Nurse Mount when they returned to the dance. The profound support the redhead was providing for her. The brunette’s visit here this evening. The fact that the pair had arrived together to dinner every night this week. Delia’s feelings for Nurse Mount were far deeper than Phyllis had thought. And it was fairly obvious that the feelings were mutual. How had she not noticed how far their relationship had progressed? Had she really been so wrapped up in her own self-pity? 

‘…and so I think what I really need to apologize to you for is what happened at the compound.’ 

Those words snapped Phyllis’ attention immediately back to the present. She chided herself for not paying closer attention, but was fairly certain Delia had just been talking about how she hadn’t been working as efficiently as she could be on the gate. How had the subject shifted to the compound? 

Phyllis interrupted softly, ‘Delia, you have nothing—’

‘No please, let me say this.’ Delia’s voice was soft but firm, ‘I’m sorry that I didn’t figure out what had happened in time. That I didn’t get to you quickly enough. When I snuck into the compound, I went to your quarters first because I didn’t know they had already taken you, and by the time I got to the back room, well, I was too late. I failed. And I’m sorry.’ 

‘Delia.’ Phyllis placed her left hand over the young woman’s right, ‘You weren’t too late and you didn’t fail. You _did_ make it in time. You made it when we were still alive. And you got us out. If it weren’t for you, we would have died. You’re not responsible for our cover getting blown and you’re not responsible for our injuries. We’re covert operatives, there’s always a risk that we could get hurt. We understood that when we went in.’

Delia looked on the verge of tears and spoke quickly, as if trying to get it all out before she lost her composure. ‘But you’re so miserable now, Phyllis! I can see that being so injured in eating you up inside, and I know deep down it should be _me_ that’s injured. It should have been me in that compound. _I’m_ the covert _field_ operative. But you didn’t send me in because you didn’t think you could trust me. Because I injected myself with the Reaper virus the last time I was there. So you went in instead and almost died! All I want is to be a trustworthy and dependable member of the team. Your opinion means so much to me. But I just keep letting you down and this time it caused you to get hurt!’ As she reached the end of her speech, tears began to slide down her face. 

Phyllis felt like her heart was going to break in two. ‘Oh, Delia, I didn’t keep you out of the compound because I didn’t trust you. I did it because I was worried about your previous exposure. We had no idea what the new virus would look like or what we would be asked to do. It could have been airborne or they could have been requiring staff to test out weakened versions. Your immune response would have put you and the mission at risk.’ 

Delia looked a little shocked as she mumbled while wiping her eyes, ‘You were worried about my immune response?’ 

‘Yes. That’s the only reason. You are an excellent, dependable operative, Delia. And while sometimes I wish you would be a little less reckless, you have never once let me down.’ 

‘Never?’ A small smile crept across Delia’s face.

Phyllis smiled back, ‘Well, there was that one time you and Winifred tried to convince me you _hadn’t_ drugged Mrs Williams…’ 

They both chuckled as they remembered their second mission together. That had been so long ago. 

Delia took a deep breath, ‘You know next month will mark eight years of the four of us working together? Eight whole years. I can barely even remember a time when we _weren’t_ out on missions in the van. The three of you mean so much to me. You’re all I have.’

‘You three and the cause, kid, that’s all I have too.’ Phyllis took a deep breath and gave a small nod. ‘You did good work back at the compound, Delia. I’m sorry I haven’t told you that enough. You figured out something was wrong and you made your way into a heavily secured compound and got us out, something that was impressive in and of itself, I might add. You have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to apologize for.’ She paused for a moment before softly adding, ‘I hope that this helps you find some peace in your dreams.’ 

Delia nodded, a serene and contented look spreading across her face, ‘Thank you, Phyllis.’ 

Phyllis sat and considered the young spy. Delia had just been so open with her about how much their team meant to her. About how much Phyllis’ approval meant to her. About how much their years working together meant to her. And now Phyllis was going to betray that. It would shatter the young woman. She felt sick. Unless…Phyllis wondered whether the brunette _could_ know about the plan.

‘Delia, about Nurse Mount…’ 

The look on Delia’s face shifted suddenly and completely into one of wariness, defensiveness and defiance. As Phyllis took in the change, she fully realized that there was no way she could reveal the plan to Delia right now. When Nurse Mount had left the dining tent to find Delia, _something_ had happened out there that had changed everything. The wall that the young spy had been struggling to keep up between her and the redhead had crumbled completely; Delia was falling in love. Telling the brunette about the authorization of Plan B would have to wait until Nurse Mount was ready.

‘…just be careful. These sorts of things can get out of control quickly and people can get hurt.’

Delia’s expression softened, ‘I’ll be sure not to jeopardize the mission, Phyllis.’ She smiled hopefully, ‘Though I don’t expect the final phase of Plan B _will_ ever be approved, not with Mary Cynthia out in the field.’ 

Phyllis gave her young teammate a small wistful smile, ‘I wasn’t talking about the mission, Delia, I was talking about your heart.’

And with that, she gave Delia’s shoulder a small squeeze before making her way out of the tent and heading towards dinner. At that moment, Phyllis determined that she would do everything in her power to ensure that Nurse Mount didn’t reject Delia once the redhead learned of Plan B. Phyllis’ deception was going to shatter Delia’s heart. The least Phyllis could do was try to make sure that Nurse Mount would still be there to help Delia pick up the pieces.

 

______________________________

 

‘Julienne, if you have a moment, I’d like to discuss my team’s tenure at Camp Poplar with you.’

Phyllis responded to the camp director’s nod by making her way into the small tent.

‘Of course, Nurse Crane. I hear that congratulations are in order. Jane informs me that you should be out of your wheelchair within the week. I assume HQ is eager to get the four of you back out in the field.’ 

As she spoke, Julienne circled her desk and lowered herself into her wooden chair. She sat leaning forward, eyes trained on Phyllis, a soft smile on her lips. The old spy considered her response carefully. 

‘Thank you, I’ve been pleased with the progress I’ve been making under your team’s excellent medical care. However, I _am_ still quite weak. Considering how useful Delia and Barbara can be around camp, I thought that we might stay, so that they can be optimally helpful until I have fully recovered.’ 

Julienne’s face fell, and she was silent for a long while after this declaration. Her face betrayed almost none of her emotions, but Phyllis thought that she could detect a hint of uncertainty in the camp director’s eyes. Finally, Julienne took a short breath and when she spoke, her voice was determined and surprisingly hard. 

‘She’s already been through more than you can possibly imagine in her short life. I will not allow you to remain here _playing games_ with her.’

Phyllis was shocked. She had clearly underestimated the woman sitting before her. Julienne was apparently not someone to be taken lightly. But then again, neither was Phyllis. She put on her best look of innocence.

‘Julienne, I’m not certain who or what you’re referring to.’ 

‘Don’t play games with _me_ either, Nurse Crane. There is very little that happens in this camp that I am not aware of. You are clearly still in contact with HQ and you have taken an obvious undue interest in Nurse Mount.’ 

Phyllis felt a sense of relief. So this was about Delia. That was a thrust that seemed easy enough to parry, and with the truth too. 

‘Julienne, I can assure you that, as far as Delia is concerned, that particular affinity is entirely genuine. They seem to have found something in each other that was neither planned nor, if I’m honest, entirely welcome on my part. It’s made everything about our time here more complicated.’ 

Julienne’s voice remained firm, ‘It is quite obvious that Ms Busby’s feelings for Nurse Mount are genuine, though I do appreciate the confirmation. But that’s not what I was referring to. I may be new to the world of espionage, but not to reading people. I don’t know why HQ sent you here for her, but it’s clear that they did. And I’m not especially pleased with the notion that an operation would be undertaken in my camp without informing me, particularly when it involves one of my most important staff members.’ 

Phyllis sighed. Denial was obviously useless, but Julienne seemed like a woman who could be reasoned with. 

‘She _is_ quite the important young woman, your Nurse Mount. In ways that she may not even be fully aware of. But you needn’t worry about sinister motivations on our part. We’re here to talk to her, not hurt her.’ 

‘Then might I suggest that you do just that.’

‘I think we both know it’s not that simple. You saw her reaction at the dance. She’s not ready to hear what we have to say.’ 

‘Nurse Crane, I think you’re giving her entirely too little credit. She’s not a child and she’s made of shockingly strong stuff. It’s difficult enough to run a camp of this size without having to worry about deceit at every turn.’ She paused for a moment as if considering her next words. When she spoke, her tone was firm. ‘You have until the end of the week to approach her with your proposition, get your answer, and then leave.’ 

Phyllis felt herself chafe slightly at the ultimatum, but remained calm. 

‘I’m afraid I can’t accept your proposal. I don’t think you understand just how much is as stake. Millions of lives may depend on her answer. The very fate of the Solidarity Bloc may hang in the balance. I’m not willing to risk so much simply so that your mind can be put at ease.’ 

‘And I’m not willing to let you hurt her in the name of a greater cause. And don’t lie to me or yourself, Nurse Crane. Despite your best intentions, she _will_ end up getting hurt. We say that we stand on the side of universal human values, of love, of compassion, of justice. But if we abandon those we love in the name of a bigger fight, then we betray those very values and we have already lost.’ 

Phyllis felt a bolt of guilt shoot through her as she thought of Delia. It was quickly subsumed by a rush of anger. How dare Julienne call into question her dedication to the values of the Bloc? Life was rarely morally simple, and difficult decisions had to be made. After all, she wasn’t asking Julienne to _sacrifice_ Nurse Mount, simply to allow Phyllis the time to gauge the situation. And this was about so much more than one person. _Everything_ was at stake. Her tone betrayed her anger ever so slightly. 

‘I’m sorry but I’m not asking her until I’m certain we’ll get the answer we need, and we’re not leaving until we’ve asked her.’

Julienne seemed a bit taken aback by Phyllis’ tone, ‘I’m not sure you’re in a place to be making ultimatums.’

The slight defensiveness in Julienne’s voice made Phyllis realize that this was the perfect time to play her ace. 

‘I suppose that we could turn this into a bureaucratic tussle between our superiors in Espionage and Refugee Services, but if I may instead make you a proposition. My team has a certain skillset that I think could be very valuable in solving your incendiary problem. Were we allowed to stay, I would put them to work on it immediately.’

Julienne was obviously caught off guard by the sudden change in subject, but remained cautious. 

‘Surely you can’t stop them from falling.’ 

Julienne’s tone told Phyllis that her choice to target the incendiaries was a good one. 

‘No, but I can stop them from posing a threat to your camp when they do. I understand your concern for Nurse Mount. But I urge you to consider the greater good, if not of the entire Bloc, then of your entire camp. All I’m asking for is a little more time.’ 

As soon as she saw the look on Julienne’s face, Phyllis knew she had won. The constant incendiary attacks were draining the lifeblood from Camp Poplar, and the old spy knew that the camp director would be unable to resist the allure of dealing with them once and for all. Phyllis briefly considered the strength of her hand before deciding to push her luck ever so slightly, ‘I would also like your permission to consult with Jane on a project of my own.’ 

Julienne’s brow furrowed at this final addition, and she was silent for several moments. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and leaned back in her chair, looking slightly defeated.

‘Alright, Nurse Crane, I’m listening.’


	10. Patsy Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting obscenely long (which is saying something for this fic), so I divided it into two parts. Here is the first. Enjoy!

Patsy lay on her side on her small camp bed, head propped up on her bent arm, watching Delia intently. The Welshwoman was sitting at the foot of her bed, intensely focused on shelling pistachios and placing the ready to eat ones into a small bowl. 

The nuts had been a gift from an old woman who had come through the medical tent that afternoon. Patsy was expressly _not_ allowed to accept gifts from refugees, but the elderly woman had been quite insistent, finally resorting to simply leaving the small packet of nuts under a sheet on the examination table. Patsy had only found it after the woman had left for temporary housing with her family. The redhead had dutifully sought her out to return them, only to be intercepted by the woman’s daughter who insisted that her mother derived great joy from bequeathing small gifts of pistachios, and urged Patsy to keep them. 

Patsy had no idea how the woman had obtained such an incredibly rare and expensive item, but she was fairly certain that Delia would have never had the opportunity to try pistachios before. It was this knowledge that had finally led her to relent and accept the contraband gift. The look on Delia’s face when Patsy presented them to her had made the breaking of rules worth it. 

But now, as Patsy watched Delia excitedly crack each nut with gusto, flinging small shards of skin and shell all over her bed and freshly swept floor, Patsy was beginning to regret her rebelliousness. Her desire to play it cool in front of Delia battled against the growing tension she felt with each bit of pistachio that was flung down onto her bedspread. 

She was eventually saved from nervously pulling the edge of her blanket apart entirely by Trixie, who paused in her monologue on new ideas for uniform modifications. Her voice was filled with mirth, ‘Delia, sweetie, I’m also very excited to try those little treats, but I fear that if you continue to spray bits of nut all over her bed, you may drive poor Patsy completely mad. She’s well on her way to worrying a hole in her blanket.’ 

Delia pivoted to look at Patsy, her face instantly apologetic, ‘Oh my gosh, Patsy, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something?’

Patsy could feel herself turning red as she avoided eye contact, ‘I mean…I can always clean it later…and you’re having such fun.’

Delia cocked her head to the side and smiled, ‘Seriously, Patsy? I’m not a heathen. I _am_ capable of enjoying myself without making a complete and utter mess.’

Patsy looked up with a small smile, ‘I’m not sure there’s much evidence of that, actually.’ 

‘Hey!’ Delia playfully swatted Patsy’s leg. 

Patsy giggled as she scooted away, ‘You have to admit, you _do_ tend to leave a bit of a trail of destruction.’

Delia paused to consider this and shrugged, ‘Taking things apart to put them back together in different ways can be messy.’ She smiled as she stood up, ‘I make no apologies for my creative process. However, shelling pistachios hardly qualifies as a creative endeavour, and I’m more than capable of cleaning up after myself. Could you hand me that other bowl, Trixie, so I can sweep the scraps into it?’ 

Trixie sounded slightly peeved, ‘Really, Delia, I was about to mix my mud mask in it. I already gave you _one_.’ 

‘That’s what we spies do, Trix. Come in and commandeer all the resources for our own nefarious purposes.’ She made her way over to Trixie’s bureau and picked up the small bowl waving it towards the blonde, ‘You should be happy that your bowl has the honour of serving the cause.’ She returned to Patsy’s bed, ‘Anyway, I’ll give it right back.’ 

As Delia bent over and began brushing the detritus into a small pile, Patsy moved to get up and help. Delia noticed and motioned for her to stay on the bed, ‘Really, Pats, I’m perfectly capable. You spent most of your day running around the medical tent. You deserve a bit of a lie-down.’ 

Begrudgingly, Patsy lay back down and watched Delia carefully gather every single scrap of nut from the bed and then bend over to sweep up the bits off of the floor. 

When Delia’s back was turned, Patsy looked over to where Trixie sat on her own bed and noticed that the blonde was watching her with a twinkle in her eye. Trixie cocked her head to the side as if to ask a question and silently mouthed ‘Pats?’ before raising an eyebrow suggestively and flashing a broad grin.

Patsy rolled her eyes, reached down to pick up a pistachio shell from Delia’s accumulated pile, and chucked it at the mischievous blonde. Trixie made a squealing noise and burst out laughing as the shell plinked off of her and fell to the floor. 

Delia spun around on her haunches, ‘What? What’s happened?’ 

Patsy shrugged nonchalantly, ‘Oh, Trixie was just staring rudely at your backside, so I had to remind her that’s no way to treat guests.’

Trixie feigned horror, ‘Patience Mount! Such lies don’t befit a woman of your breeding!’ 

Delia shot Patsy an amused look, ‘Really? _Trixie_ was staring at my backside?’

Patsy nodded in mock seriousness, ‘It was more like ogling, really. You’re lucky I was here to defend your honour.’ 

Trixie cut in, ‘This is a scandalous character assassination! If I _had_ been _ogling_ your backside, I would be more than happy to admit it. In fact, now I’m a little sad I _wasn’t_ , considering I’m being blamed for it.’ 

Delia laughed and then bent over dramatically to sweep up the remaining bits of pistachio off the floor, pointedly facing her rear towards Trixie, ‘Here, Trix, does that help?’ 

Patsy could feel herself turning bright red as she tried in vain to stop herself from staring. Thank goodness the attention was focused on her roommate. 

Trixie giggled for a moment before affecting a serious face and putting a finger to her chin, as if considering Delia carefully, ‘Hmmm…yes, Busby, very nice, very nice. Definitely worth a solid ogle.’ 

Delia laughed as she stood, having collected all the detritus into Trixie’s small bowl, ‘I’m flattered you’ve reached that conclusion even though I’m wearing this get-up. These uniforms do nothing to highlight my _assets_.’ She winked and made her way out of the tent to empty the bowl into the communal bins. 

Patsy watched the sway in Delia’s hips as she left. Yes, she thought to herself, definitely worth an ogle. 

She was disturbed from her reverie by a pistachio shell bouncing off her cheek. She looked over to see Trixie eyeing her with amusement. 

‘Patsy, I’m going to have to insist you stop projecting your thoughts onto me. First of all, it maligns my character, and second you’re going to end up convincing her it’s _me_ that’s infatuated with her, which would really do both of you an awful disservice.’ 

‘I’m sorry, Trixie, but I’m sure I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.’ 

‘MmmmHmm.’ Trixie made a sceptical noise as she stood up and made her way to her bureau to gather her mud mask materials, ‘You two have been circling each other for weeks now. If I wanted to just pine away hopelessly I could manage that very well myself. If I’m going to live vicariously through you, I need some real, honest to goodness _excitement_.’ 

‘Who’s found some real excitement?’ Delia strode back in, wiping the bowl out on her shirt. She handed it to Trixie and then plopped back down on the foot of Patsy’s bed where she began very carefully shelling the remainder of the pistachios, making sure that every scrap of skin ended up in the nut bowl. 

‘Not me, that’s for sure.’ Trixie sighed at she poured the clay powder into the newly re-obtained bowl. ‘I know you four are stuck here for a while to build this incendiary catching net water contraption of yours, but I hope you’ll spare a thought for us poor aide workers, deprived of excitement in our little camp, when you return to your lives of adventure.’ 

‘I promise you Trixie, our kind of _excitement_ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Anyway, from what I hear you get your very own thrills right here. _I’ve_ never had the honour of assaulting a bona fide Bloc music star.’

Trixie spun around and looked in shock at Patsy, ‘Patience Mount! Have you been divulging all of my deepest, most embarrassing moments to Delia?’ 

Patsy adamantly said ‘No!’ just as Delia gleefully asserted ‘Yes!’ 

This time it was Patsy’s turn to playfully swat at Delia’s shoulder while the brunette giggled and leaned away. Trixie watched the pair of them and dramatically rolled her eyes before turning back to her stirring while muttering something about everyone being completely incorrigible. 

‘Honestly, Trixie. It just came up in a discussion of self-defence skills. I was simply pointing out that you were more than capable of holding your own, and Delia was curious about an example.’ 

‘It’s true. And from the sound of it, the cad deserved everything he got. I can’t believe he invited you to his tent under such false pretences. I swear, whichever side they’re on, men are just…ugh.’ Delia made a disgusted face to accompany this final sound. 

Trixie laughed, ‘Well, some of us have the unfortunate inclination to like _some_ of them, regardless.’ She suddenly got a far-away look and stared off slightly into the distance, ‘I think where most of them go wrong is thinking that I put so much effort into being beautiful for _them_. But it’s for _me_. I may be stuck in a refugee camp on the undermanned side of a moral quagmire, but I can still look fabulous. It’s my little act of resistance.’ 

She shook her head slightly, as if returning to the present. She looked directly at Delia, the glint in her eye returned, ‘Anyway, I hope that Patsy has also been sharing with you some of _her_ most embarrassing moments.’ 

Delia looked delighted, ‘I strongly suspect that she has _not_. May I suggest that you remedy that.’

Patsy was about to protest when, without missing a beat, Trixie spoke. 

‘Did she tell you about the incident with the portable ultrasound machine?’

Patsy exhaled and smirked slightly. She’d told Delia many of her most amusing mishaps. She should be able to survive this little exercise unscathed. 

Delia scrunched up her face, looking a little disappointed, ‘Yes, she did, actually. I didn’t think it was _that_ bad. At least it didn’t _actually_ lead to an amputation.’ 

Trixie laughed, ‘Your life as a spy has made your expectations of the nursing profession a little underwhelming. Anyway, I’m willing to bet that she _didn’t_ tell you about Mrs Kimani and the packed dirt floor in here.’ 

Delia looked intrigued as she raised an eyebrow and looked at Patsy, ‘No, she most certainly did _not_.’ 

‘Hold on just one minute!’ Patsy knew she sounded more desperate than she wanted to, but she didn’t want Delia to hear Trixie’s rendition of this particular story. ‘This exercise is inherently unbalanced…no one is here to reveal Delia’s most embarrassing secrets.’ 

Delia smirked and shrugged, ‘I don’t have any shameful secrets. My life has been entirely un-embarrassing.’ 

Trixie narrowed her eyes at the brunette, ‘A likely story, Ms Busby. Don’t make me break out my impressive interrogation skills.’ 

Patsy couldn’t be completely certain, but was fairly sure that Delia had purposefully steered the conversation away from the dirt floor story. She was amazed at how adept Delia was at reading her emotions and extremely grateful that the brunette had chosen to redirect the discussion. 

Delia laughed heartily at Trixie’s assertion and replied jovially, ‘I’d like to see you try, Ms Franklin.’ 

With that, Delia stood up, having finished her shelling, and placed the bowl of nuts on the end table. She deposited the few remaining shells, including the one from the floor that had served as such an effective projectile, in her pocket and settled back on the bed, watching Trixie with confident amusement. This time she lifted herself fully onto the mattress and sat cross-legged. Without looking away from Trixie, she leaned backwards on the tiny camp bed, shifting her weight to her hands and manoeuvring Patsy’s lower legs so they rested snugly between Delia’s back and forearms. This unexpected move left Patsy completely distracted as her heart leapt into her throat. Her calves tingled and her mind raced trying to determine if Delia’s action _meant_ something, or if she was just trying to sit more comfortably. She barely even noticed Trixie staring pensively at Delia, as if trying to decide how far she should push the spy. 

Their standoff was interrupted by Winifred returning to the tent balancing a tray crowded with five mugs filled to the brim with liquid. 

Trixie looked appalled, ‘Winifred! Why on _earth_ are you trying to carry all of that yourself? I thought Barbara went along expressly to help carry everything back.’ 

‘Don’t worry, Trixie, I’ve managed just fine. Phyllis needed to speak urgently with Barbara, so I decided to come back on my own.’ Winifred placed the tray carefully on the small table between their camp beds, ‘There! Not even one spill!’ She examined the mugs more carefully, ‘Well…maybe one or two spills, but that’s pretty impressive, considering.’ She turned back towards the group with a toothy smile, ‘So, what have you been chatting about in my absence?’

Patsy saw Delia’s brow furrow with concern. ‘Did Phyllis say if something was wrong?’ 

Winifred shrugged, ‘No. She just said she needed to chat with Barbara tonight…privately. You know Phyllis. She can be a bit cagey. Anyway, what did I miss?’ She looked eagerly around. 

Trixie spoke up first, ‘Delia was just claiming that she has no embarrassing moments in her past.’ 

‘ _Really?_ ’ Winifred shot Delia a quizzical look as she handed Trixie her cup of Horlicks. 

‘Aha!’ Trixie sounded triumphant, ‘I _knew_ Winifred would have the dirt on you, Ms Busby! Come on Winifred, you’re not going to let her get away with such obvious lies, are you? Spill!’ 

‘Ummm…well…’ the small spy seemed reluctant. 

Patsy reached over and grabbed her mug from the tray as Winifred picked up Delia’s.

Delia made eye contact with her teammate as she approached with the mug of tea, speaking with a tone of mock seriousness, ‘Winifred. Remember all of the times we’ve had each other’s backs.’ 

Winifred looked decidedly uncomfortable as she handed the brunette her drink. Delia had to lean forward to take the mug, pulling her away from contact with Patsy’s legs. Patsy immediately felt the absence of Delia’s touch, and made what felt like the unspeakably bold decision to take matters into her own hands. With her heart racing and her head full of doubt, she shifted her legs slightly so they pressed lightly against the small of Delia’s back. She held her breath, half expecting the brunette to shift away or show some sign of discomfort, but to her great joy Delia actually leaned back ever so slightly into Patsy’s touch and a smile flitted across a corner of her lips. Patsy felt unaccountably happy and brave as she basked in the wave of relief and hope even this small smile gave her. 

Trixie’s voice snapped Patsy back to the conversation. The blonde sounded exasperated, ‘For heaven’s sake, Delia, there’s no need to be so _dramatic_. Look, Winifred, you mentioned wanting to try out my mud mask. We’ll have a little spa session tonight _if_ you regale us with an embarrassing tale from Delia’s past.’ 

Delia laughed, ‘Resorting to bribery, Ms Franklin!! For shame!’ 

Winifred seemed to take Delia’s laughter as tacit permission, and she shot a slightly shy sideways glance at Trixie, ‘Has she told you about Mrs Williams?’

‘She has not!’ Trixie squealed with glee and plopped down on her camp bed, gesturing for Winifred to sit next to her. The spy picked up her own mug of Horlicks and obliged. 

Patsy was intrigued. Delia had told her quite a few stories that could probably be classified as embarrassing, but she had never mentioned a Mrs Williams. Her curiosity was further piqued when Delia jovially declared, ‘Goodness, Winifred, I see you’re going straight for the jugular.’ 

Winifred settled down comfortably on Trixie’s bed, holding her mug in her lap and eagerly looking from face to face. Patsy suspected the spy was rarely the centre of attention, and was obviously enjoying her moment in the spotlight. 

‘Well, it was only the second mission for Delia and I, and the first one had gone fairly well, but we were still extremely eager to prove ourselves. Especially to Phyllis. Because she’d taken us in. Anyway, the orders come in from HQ and they want Delia to go on a _seduction_ mission. Can you imagine? As your second mission?’ 

Patsy felt herself tense. There were _seduction_ missions? That _Delia_ went on? She suddenly felt rather nauseous. 

Winifred continued on blithely, ‘We knew the Redemptionists were planning a physical handover of the formula for a new viral weapon. They knew we were tracking them closely, so they kept setting up false meetings, and it was wearing our resources thin. Finally, on the weekend of the anniversary gala, our intelligence learned that their biological weapons division planned on using the presence of so many important council members at the party to disguise their handover of the formula…’ 

As Winifred spoke, Delia leaned over and quietly placed her mug on the floor, freeing her hands to lean back and hug Patsy’s calves to her once again. Patsy knew that the brunette had picked up on her stress when Delia gave her legs a brief squeeze and shot her a reassuring glance before turning to look at Winifred once again, a wry smile on her lips. Patsy felt her tension give way to butterflies. If Delia wasn’t worried about this story, then she wouldn’t be either. 

‘…Luckily for us, because they were trying to avoid detection, none of their experienced handoff personnel were there. Instead, they’d entrusted the formula to some bigwig in the Ministry of Defence, Herman Williams. We knew his relationship with his wife wasn’t great, and that she often felt lonely and ignored, so it was decided to target her. On the day of the event, Mr Williams and his wife arrived—’ 

‘And Delia was there to woo the gorgeous society wife and get to the formula?’ Trixie cut in excitedly, practically bouncing on the bed. 

Winifred seemed a bit miffed to have been cut off, ‘Well, yes, actually. That was more or less the plan. Mr Williams tended to spend more time schmoozing at parties than was strictly necessary, so Delia was supposed to tempt Mrs Williams into to bringing her back to their room so that Delia could get into the safe and copy the formula. It didn’t turn out exactly as planned, though, because Delia didn’t _want_ to seduce her, so she and I brainstormed other ways to get her to her room and decided to poison her instead.’ 

‘ _Poison_ her?’ Patsy sounded horrified.

‘Don’t worry, Pats, Winifred always likes to say poison to make it sound more dramatic. I just slipped some ipecac syrup into her drink so she would throw up. Then I made a huge scene, yelling that she’d been poisoned and that I needed to take her to her room immediately.’

‘You really thought that would _work_?’ Patsy couldn’t believe the Delia she knew would be such an idiot. 

‘Patsy, I was seventeen, desperate to please, terrified of having to try to seduce someone, and extremely impulsive. I could have convinced myself that almost _anything_ would have worked.’

‘As you might have guessed,’ Winifred re-took the reins, ‘It decidedly did _not_ work. Soon Delia was trapped in the banquet hall surrounded by security personnel, and we were in no way nearer to getting the formula. Luckily, Phyllis was able to use the chaos Delia created to sneak in and make her way to the Williams’ room just in time to intercept Mr Williams. He’d heard Delia yelling and thought the hotel was under attack so he ran to protect the formula. She knocked him out as he was entering the room and broke into the safe.’

‘As a result, I’ve always argued that it did, in fact, work. Just not the way we expected.’ Delia smiled triumphantly. ‘Although Winifred _did_ have to shut off the power so that Barbara could extract me, which tipped the Redemptionists off to our presence. So the _stealth_ part of the mission could have been smoother.’ 

‘Where we really went wrong, though, was lying to Phyllis about the ipecac syrup. We tried to convince her that Mrs Williams had just _happened_ to be sick and Delia had improvised.’ Winifred chuckled at the memory, ‘She saw through that lie instantly and was _not_ pleased. We had to listen to lectures about how _nothing_ is more important than honesty between teammates for three solid months after that.’ 

‘I still don’t understand why you didn’t try to charm her, Delia.’ Trixie looked perplexed, ‘Using one’s wiles to lure a society wife seems like it would be such fun.’ 

‘I was so young, and I’d just spent three years living in a van on the streets. There was about as much chance of me successfully wooing Mrs Williams as having lightning strike the venue.’ 

‘Well then why did they assign you? Surely they wouldn’t have sent you in unless they thought you capable of completing the mission.’ Patsy’s pragmatism showed itself again. 

Much to Patsy’s surprise, Delia tensed slightly at her question. When she answered her voice was cold and curt, sending the strong message that this was not a topic for further discussion. ‘I was sent in because I could get an invitation.’ She paused, now sounding more contemplative, ‘Also, though HQ may be well-intentioned, they’re not always the best at assessing and respecting skill when assigning missions. Just because I’m rubbish at seduction missions doesn’t mean they won’t assign them.’ 

‘Now wait a minute…’ Winifred’s protest was interrupted by Barbara’s entry into the tent. 

‘I’m sorry that took so long. Phyllis just wanted to have a chat about the metalwork for the incendiary neutralization system we’re designing. I’m not sure why that discussion needed to happen right _now_ , but you know how Phyllis can be. I thought it best to appease her.’

‘She wanted to discuss the metalwork?’ Delia sounded profoundly sceptical, her brow furrowed with confusion. 

‘Yes, she said she wanted to make sure it really could be done with as few resources as we requested.’ Barbara was trying to sound breezy, but she spoke too rapidly, making her come across as nervous and unsure. The uncomfortable glances she kept shooting in Delia’s direction certainly weren’t helping her cause. 

Trixie, perhaps unwittingly, came to her rescue, ‘Well, we certainly can’t blame you for doing everything necessary to appease Nurse Crane.’ She stood up and reached for the bowl of pistachios, ‘Now that both you and our drinks are finally here, we can try these little treats Patsy so rebelliously obtained for us.’ 

Barbara settled down slightly awkwardly next to Winifred while Trixie circled the group, allowing each of them to take a small handful of nuts. Patsy was grateful that Delia hadn’t moved to get up herself, as she still felt warm and a bit giddy from her physical contact with the brunette. 

There were a few moments of silence while they each tried the pistachios. Winifred was the first to share her opinion, her face scrunched up with displeasure. 

‘Thank you so much for allowing us to try these, Patsy, but I’m afraid they’re just not my cup of tea. Too…earthy, I think.’ 

‘Well, I’ll happily take the ones you don’t want.’ Delia hopped up to divest Winifred of the remainder of her handful before settling back down against Patsy’s legs, ‘I think they’re delicious.’ 

Patsy felt like she was glowing with pride that Delia liked them. The nuts had honestly been intended just for the Welshwoman, but the brunette had excitedly announced that she wanted to share them. Patsy enjoyed it when all of them spent time together, but she would have been lying if she said she cared about anyone’s opinion but Delia’s. 

‘Yes, Patsy, they are quite scrumptious. I can see why they’re such a delicacy.’ Barbara plucked another nut out of her palm and popped it into her mouth before continuing casually, ‘So, what did I miss?’ 

Trixie giggled and shot Delia a playful glance, ‘We were getting all of the juicy gossip on Delia’s _seduction_ missions!’ 

Barbara almost chocked on the pistachio in her mouth and had to grab her now-tepid mug of Horlicks to stop her fit of coughing. Once she had regained her composure somewhat, she shot a panicked glance at Delia, ‘What? Why on earth were you talking about _that_?’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘Trixie bribed Winifred into telling embarrassing moments from my past, so of course she went straight for the Mrs Williams caper. I think it’s because she likes to be able to say the word _poison_ ominously.’ 

Barbara relaxed noticeably, ‘Oh yes, the Williams situation. That _was_ a bit of a disaster. Though I’m not sure how realistic it was in the first place. It was only your second mission, and to have only one evening…I think that was a little too much to expect.’ 

‘That’s what I was going to say when you came in!’ Winifred looked excitedly towards Delia, ‘I think you improved a great deal at seduction missions, especially when you have enough time. You need to have more faith in yourself. You weren’t rubbish on your second go, with Mrs Thomas.’

Delia tensed and a look of genuine discomfort flitted across her face as she shifted uncomfortably, moving slightly away from Patsy.

‘I don’t want to talk about Mrs Thomas.’ Delia sounded profoundly uneasy, but her tone was firm. 

‘I’m not saying we have to talk about it. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t sell yourself short. You were remarkably successful on that mission. She really cared about you by the end.’ 

All of the anxiety Patsy had felt before about seduction missions came flooding back. She could practically _see_ the discomfort radiating off of Delia. Attempting to offer support, she lightly pushed against Delia’s back with her legs, but this time the brunette shifted away slightly, looking uneasy. Patsy felt panic spike up within her. She desperately wanted Winifred to stop talking.

Barbara cut in, sounding a little panicked herself, ‘Winifred, I don’t think we should talk about this right now.’ 

Winifred sounded a little exasperated, ‘For goodness sake, I’m not suggesting we discuss state secrets. Delia’s always so hard on herself. I’m just trying to get her to acknowledge an area of real improvement.’ 

Barbara seemed as irritated as Patsy had ever seen her and Delia looked as if she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. Patsy felt a rush of anger, followed almost immediately by a strong instinct to protect. She made direct eye contact with Trixie, sending her a silent request to play along, and then spoke, keeping her voice light. 

‘I’m sure all of you have made incredible improvement in your espionage skills over the years, but I rather think that this most recent line of discussion has gotten us away from the _real_ subject of tonight’s little gathering.’ 

Trixie, bless her, cut in without missing a beat, ‘That’s absolutely right. We’re discussing embarrassing moments, and my dear Barbara, I don’t think we’ve heard any of yours. Don’t think you’ll escape without regaling us with a tale or two.’ 

Barbara’s irritation immediately melted away, but was replaced by a flustered self-consciousness, ‘Oh…I don’t know if my embarrassing stories are really all that worth sharing.’ 

Winifred, successfully diverted, leapt at this assertion, ‘Oh come _on_ , Barbara, the Huddersfield incident was quite humorous. Delia, you should tell it! Be sure to use the funny voice when you’re voicing General Carter.’ 

Delia shot Patsy a grateful look before settling down and launching into the story. As Delia loosened up, she once again rested against Patsy’s legs. Patsy felt a surge of relief at the renewed contact. 

The story did indeed prove to be hilarious, and the rest of the evening flowed along smoothly. The telling of the Huddersfield incident was followed up by an equally amusing story about Winifred and a computerized loo. When Trixie and Winifred applied their mud masks, Patsy took the opportunity of Trixie’s inability to speak to tell the story of her assaulting the pop star, which naturally led to a discussion of which famous stars throughout history seemed most likely to be cads in person and which ones seemed genuinely nice.

Delia relaxed completely as the conversation progressed, and she remained snuggled up against Patsy’s legs for the rest of the evening. Though Patsy was happy to see Delia’s tension dissipated, the brunette’s earlier palpable discomfort gnawed at the back of her mind. As did her own reaction to it. It took a long time for her to be able to just let go and enjoy the evening of pleasant company and tantalizing closeness to Delia. 

Eventually, long after the mud masks were washed off and any thought of Mrs Thomas forgotten, Barbara stood and stretched. 

‘Well, this has been an utterly delightful evening, but I’m guessing we’ll have to be up sooner than we’d like on incendiary duty. I think we should head back to our tent.’ She began collecting the mugs. 

Delia huffed good-naturedly, ‘Ugh, Babs, you’re always such a stick in the mud! It’s barely even ten! Soon Winifred and I will be in our own digs, and then we can stay up as late as we want.’ 

‘You and Winifred are moving?’ Trixie sounded intrigued. 

‘Yep. Julienne requisitioned a tent for us to store materials for the incendiary neutralization project, and Winifred and I are going to move into it. Our current tent really isn’t intended for four people to live in long term and we’re all feeling a bit…cramped. I think it’ll be nice to get a little space.’ 

‘Plus, it’ll be like old times! A little walk down memory lane to the Year of the Van.’ Winifred looked utterly delighted as she hopped up to help Barbara with the mugs. 

Delia shot Winifred a bemused look, ‘I’m not sure why you’re so keen to re-live that particular period, but I’m happy you’re excited.’ She hoisted herself off the bed, giving Patsy’s thigh a little squeeze as she did, and shooed Barbara and Winifred away from the mugs, ‘Go on, you two did all of the work to make the drinks, I can drop by the kitchen tent and give them a wash before heading back to the tent.’ 

Barbara nodded, ‘Thanks, Delia. And thanks again, Patsy, for the pistachios.’ 

‘It was no problem at all. Thank you for joining us this evening.’ 

‘It was our pleasure.’

Patsy and Trixie called out their farewells as Barbara and Winifred left for their own tent. 

Patsy dragged herself up and went to collect her toiletries, a bit jealous of Trixie, who had already completed her evening ablutions. She watched with fondness as Delia spent an extra minute or so sweeping up the few bits of pistachio skin that had fallen on the floor or beds, depositing them on the tray. Once she was certain she’d gotten every last piece, she turned to Patsy, who was watching her with a small half smile. 

‘You seem very eager to prove your ability to not leave a mess in your wake.’ 

Delia grinned, ‘My general cleanliness had been called into question, so really it was a matter of honour.’ 

‘Well, you can safely consider your honour defended.’ 

Delia suddenly took a step towards her, placing a hand gently on her arm. Patsy felt her breath hitch slightly. The brunette looked up directly into her eyes and spoke softly. 

‘Thank you so much, Pats, for the pistachios. It means a lot that you were willing to bend the rules for me. They were an absolutely wonderful treat.’ 

Patsy, painfully conscious of the fact that Trixie was only _pretending_ not to be paying rapt attention, tried her best to control her outward response as she felt her stomach do a little somersault. She was aware that she had a stupid grin on her face, but realized that it was hopeless to try to suppress it. 

‘You’re very welcome, Deels. I’m glad you enjoyed them.’ 

Delia, a smile plastered on her face, gave Patsy’s arm a little squeeze. Her eyes stayed trained on Patsy’s as she took a few steps backward. They stood there for a moment just staring giddily at each other until Delia’s eyes darted to Trixie, and she begrudgingly turned to pick up the tray. 

As she made her way out of the tent with her cargo she jovially called out, ‘Sleep well, ladies, I’ll see you both tomorrow.’ 

Patsy called out, ‘Good night!’, her eyes lingering for a moment on the tent flap Delia had just exited from. She then turned to Trixie, who was staring at her with a look of utter amusement.

‘What?’ Patsy tried to sound innocent as she turned to pour water from the pitcher on her bureau into a pan to wash her face. 

‘You two are completely impossible,’ Trixie declared with humour in her voice, ‘I mean seriously, how long are you going to do this ridiculous little dance of yours? The anticipation is driving me mad.’

‘Trixie –‘

‘I know, I know, you have _no_ idea what I’m talking about. I’m just saying, you have to think about what you actually _want_ and then go for it. They’re not going to be here forever.’ 

‘What I _want_ , Ms Franklin, is to not be talking about this right now.’ 

‘You, Ms Mount, are no fun.’ Trixie huffed with finality as she flopped herself down on her bed. 

Patsy rolled her eyes and turned to wash her face. She considered Trixie’s words as she scrubbed. 

What she wanted. That was easy. How to _obtain_ what she wanted? _That_ was where she was completely lost. 

She knew that something had tangibly changed a week ago when she had followed Delia out of the dining tent. Patsy recognized repressed trauma when she saw it, and though she had been terrified, there was no way she was going to let Delia go through it alone. So, she had taken a leap of faith and Delia, wonderful, brave, beautiful Delia, had actually let her in. Had let Patsy hold her as she cried. Had shared with Patsy her fears, her nightmares, her guilt. Had listened to Patsy’s suggestions and taken her advice. It had all left Patsy feeling so incredibly…special. 

And in the days since then, something about how Delia interacted with her had undeniably changed. The slight tension and awkwardness that she had felt in Delia so often before was gone entirely. The brunette was more open. More flirty. More tactile. Patsy’s heart raced just thinking about it. It was as if Delia suddenly actually _wanted_ to explore the possibility of being more than friends. Patsy longed to explore that possibility too.

She took a deep breath. Literally every action she was taking and emotion that she was feeling was so strong and so completely new that it was all just utterly disorienting. Was there something she was supposed to be saying? To be doing? Would she have the courage to follow through even if she _did_ know the next steps? It had taken an unbelievable amount of bravery to lightly touch Delia’s back, for crying out loud! How on _earth_ was she supposed to make some grand gesture? And was she even supposed to? What if she made a mistake and pushed Delia away? 

She dried off her face and sighed, reaching for her toothbrush. At least Delia was back to being her assistant until the supplies for the incendiary system arrived. Her heart leapt at the prospect of spending even more time alone with Delia. Actually _being_ with the brunette was so absolutely wonderful. It was only after Delia left and Patsy was alone with her thoughts that the flood of uncertainties washed over her. She knew she would eventually have to figure out what her next step was supposed to be. After all, Trixie was right: the Quartet wouldn’t be at Camp Poplar forever. But for right now, she decided she would just try to enjoy the moments she _did_ get to spend in Delia’s presence, when all of her worries and uncertainties just seemed to melt away. 

Patsy spit into the pan, wiped her mouth, and then made her way to her bed, turning off the small lantern as she did. 

As she lay there, she replayed Delia squeezing her arm. Her stomach flipped as she pictured the brunette’s smiling face as she slowly backed away. If Delia was looking at her like that, she must be doing _something_ right. She should have more faith in herself. She had to trust that she would know what to do if a moment presented itself. She soon drifted off to sleep contentedly imagining all of the possibilities that _doing_ something could entail.


	11. Patsy Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 3 weeks of friends and travel and weddings and adventures I returned to find that, for lack of a better way to put it, these characters refused to talk to me. After about a week of coaxing, we are once more on speaking terms. Now that they have again agreed to chatter away in my head, my aim is to be able to update more frequently. Thanks for your continued patience and I hope that you enjoy this (admittedly very long) update.

Patsy took a brief moment to close her eyes and take a deep breath. When she opened them, Monica Joan was still staring at her, looking perturbed. 

‘I realize I have moments which may cause you to doubt my faculties, but I have not become devoid of reason. I can assure you that I would have remembered ordering one sieve, let alone two. Ever since the original perished last year during the making of an ill-advised bisque, I have been plotting the ordering of its replacement. Now berry season is soon upon us and I will shortly require one for the making of jams to tide us over the long winter months. Hopefully this year will yield _Blackberries Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes Ebon in the hedges, fat With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers. I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me_. Just as I love them!’ 

Patsy sighed. How the cook was capable of remembering arcane verses of poetry while simultaneously seeming mostly unaware of the current geopolitical situation was a source of constant bafflement. She noticed that the old woman was eyeing her expectantly. Ah yes. The poem. 

‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t recognize that one.’ 

The cook’s brow furrowed with displeasure and Patsy felt her annoyance spike. Most of the time Patsy enjoyed, or at the very least tolerated, their little poetry games, but today she was feeling unusually impatient. She knew the true cause of her disquietude had nothing to do with Monica Joan, however, and strove to remain patient as the old woman made a noise of consternation. 

‘Why the British education system continues to ignore the contributions of both women and Americans to the great art of poetry eludes me. It is Sylvia Plath!’ 

‘Of course! _Blackberrying_. I’m sorry. I think I’m just a bit preoccupied. And you know I’ve never been the greatest fan of confessional poetry.’ 

‘Acknowledgement of emotional turmoil is nothing to be ashamed of, Nurse Mount. While she undeniably took it to unwise extremes, you could learn from Ms Plath the cathartic power of confession.’ 

‘She’s perhaps not the best role model for the handling of emotions, Monica Joan.’ 

‘Nevertheless, there are lessons to be learned from all. Much like the juices of berries must be released to yield the saccharine delight of jam, the sap of our emotions must be allowed to ooze into the sweet syrup of reflection.’ 

Patsy smiled at that, ‘Very poetic. I think perhaps you’ve missed your calling.’ She made her way to the door of the kitchen tent, ‘I have to go now, but I’ll try to order you another sieve. Lunch smells delicious, by the by.’

Monica Joan nodded and moved back to the stove, ‘I’ve always found mushrooms to be kindred spirits, _Nudgers and shovers In spite of ourselves. Our kind multiplies: We shall by morning Inherit the earth. Our foot’s in the door.’_

Patsy chuckled, ‘Hopefully so, hopefully so.’ Just before leaving, she turned back, ‘Also…Monica Joan? There _is_ no more British education system, remember?’

The old woman made a dismissive noise, ‘As long as there are young people on this island, there is an education system. It is just that now they are taught the art of violence instead of poetry. And thus the world weeps.’

Patsy smiled wanly before turning to leave, ‘It does indeed.’ 

As she walked towards the communication tent, she tried to heed Monica Joan’s advice and reflect, but there didn’t seem to be much of a point in this case. She knew exactly what was bothering her. Something was off about the stock systems, she had the sense Trixie was hiding something from her, and she had barely seen _any_ of Delia in the last week. And she had the sneaking suspicion that all three were related. 

The first odd occurrence had come on the day Delia returned to working with her. When Delia had handed Patsy the ordering lists, she had been shocked to see a dozen engine oil dipsticks on Trixie’s sheet. She had asked Delia about it, but the brunette had simply shrugged and muttered something along the lines of ‘You know how Trixie is.’ 

That evening, when she’d asked about the dipsticks, Trixie had at first looked entirely baffled, before a look of realization had flashed across her face and she’d explained they were to replace a number of rusted ones from long-abandoned vehicles. To Patsy, this seemed highly suspicious, but HQ had agreed to send them, so she decided not to push. Ever since then, Trixie had been profoundly…cagey. Disappearing for long periods, ordering strange things like aluminium sheeting and drop cloths, looking at Patsy and then giggling softly to herself. It left the redhead feeling highly…unsettled. 

Then, about a week ago, Delia had come to her and somewhat nervously announced she wasn’t going to be able to work with her for a while. Apparently, Phyllis had some kind of secret project that required immediate attention. The brunette proceeded to disappear almost entirely, not appearing at lunches or dinners. Not coming to check in after Patsy’s rounds. Not coming to wish Patsy a good night. Patsy missed her terribly. 

When Patsy _did_ run into Delia one day just before lunch, she had asked how things were going and Delia had responded awkwardly that Julienne was pleased with the progress. Patsy had very sceptically pointed out that the project had supposedly been for Phyllis to which Delia responded ‘Well, I mean Phyllis told me about it, but it’s _from_ Julienne, so I guess it’s just sort of for camp. I can’t really talk about it,’ before scurrying off. 

Patsy knew Delia was lying to her, and didn’t like how much that bothered her. And not getting to spend any time with Delia was wearing her down. Lack of actual time with the brunette allowed the demons of doubt in her head unfettered access. Had she done something wrong? Was Delia avoiding her? Even if there _was_ a legitimate reason for her absence and the accompanying secrecy, did Delia miss Patsy? As much as Patsy missed her? That hardly seemed possible.

She sighed as she entered the communication tent and sat to place the daily requests over the secure line. HQ gave her a bit of a hard time about ordering yet another sieve, but she made up some claptrap about Trixie taking them from the kitchen to filter engine oil, and HQ relented. Patsy was amazed at how much goodwill Trixie and Barbara’s constant stream of repaired vehicles was buying. 

That task finished, she sat and looked over her supply logs. Something fishy was definitely going on. A number of requested supplies from the last delivery were not where they should have been in storage. Sheets for the medical tent, adhesive patches, metal weights. Patsy had asked Chummy if they had already been used, but she hadn’t even remembered ordering them. Patsy was sure Delia was behind everything somehow, but because she never saw the brunette anymore, she hadn’t had the opportunity to ask. It was all profoundly frustrating. 

Having submitted her orders and organized her logs, Patsy made her way to the dining tent for lunch. Entering, she felt herself deflate slightly as she noticed that Delia was absent yet again. She sat down next to Trixie and halfway listened as the blonde chatted with Winifred about some new song she had found in Delia’s record collection. Patsy wasn’t really paying attention as she sullenly ate the mushroom stew which was, indeed, delicious. 

Suddenly, the refugee arrival signal sounded over the PA system. The dash and dot-dash-dash-dot summoned Trixie and Patsy to the medical tent.

Patsy looked up in consternation, ‘I thought it was Evangelina’s turn.’ 

Trixie stood, ‘It appears not, sweetie.’ She turned to Winifred, ‘I’m afraid that’s our cue. Enjoy your afternoon.’ 

As the two nurses made their way out of the tent, Trixie let out a sudden exclamation, ‘Oh rats! Patsy, can I ask you a favor?’ 

  

______________________

 

Patsy entered her tent with a sigh. She couldn’t believe Trixie had left her stethoscope in the tent _again_. The blonde really was lucky she had Patsy to run around and fetch her things for her. Especially because Trixie hadn’t even looked apologetic when she had asked Patsy to run back to the tent so she could make a quick stop at the loo before their shift in the medical tent. If anything she’d looked almost…pleased with herself. 

Patsy’s annoyance spiked when she noticed the stethoscope wasn’t on the bureau where Trixie had said it would be. She was already irritated her planned afternoon of cleaning out and reorganizing the food storage tent was to be interrupted by a stint as Nurse Mount. She had no patience for what was sure to be a frustrating search through Trixie’s belongings. 

Suddenly, she noticed a small piece of paper with her name written on it sitting propped up on the bureau. She picked it up and unfolded it with great curiosity, finding a note written out in Trixie’s looping scrawl:

 

_Dearest Patience,_

_As you have undoubtedly surmised, the stethoscope gambit was an elaborate ruse. My nursing supplies are safely in my possession. As it turns out, your services are not required in the medical tent this afternoon. Instead, there is a package on your bed that you should investigate immediately. Once again, you are not to check into the medical tent. In fact, I will be sorely disappointed if I see you before dinner._

_Love,  
Trixie_

_PS- Remember, if it’s what you want, then for heavens sake go after it._

 

While she had read most of the note with a perplexed curiosity, Patsy’s heart started beating faster as she read the postscript. There was only one thing, or person, rather, that Trixie would be referring to. 

She glanced over and saw a small teal package sitting in the middle of her bed, a note perched on top of it. She made her way across the room, picked up the note and gently unfolded the paper. Inside were a few short lines, written in a compact, messy, but legible scrawl. 

 

_Patsy –_

_Please put on the items you find in this package and make your way to the incendiary project storage tent. There’s someone there in need of your attention._

_Delia_

 

She cocked her head to the side as she considered the note. What was Delia up to? 

Looking down at the package, her mouth turned up in a small half-smile as she realized it was wrapped in the teal bed sheet Delia’s dress had been made of. She briefly wondered whether Delia had used the sheet as wrapping because it was all she could find, or as a subtle sort of flirtation. 

After glancing quickly to the door to make sure no one was waiting to jump out and surprise her, Patsy buried her face in the sheet and inhaled deeply. It smelled of Delia. She simply stood there for a moment, revelling in the warmth of the feelings the odour elicited, before lowering the package back to the bed and unwrapping it, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so sentimental. 

Inside, she found a bundle of white clothing that seemed to consist of a pair of pants and a jacket with a zip up the back. She audibly gasped when she picked up the jacket and saw the distinctive extra triangles of fabric and strap to go between the legs. 

This was undeniably a fencing jacket. Her heart skipped a beat. Delia had remembered. But…surely she couldn’t have orchestrated a fencing experience. Where on earth would she have obtained the supplies? Not even Fred would have been able to acquire fencing weapons or protective gear. 

Suddenly she remembered all of the mysteriously unaccounted-for and odd supply requests. The strainers and oil dipsticks and aluminium sheeting. Was it really possible?

She hurriedly slipped on the ensemble, using the long cord that had been helpfully attached to the pull to zip up the back of the jacket. The almost perfect fit made her realize that Trixie must have been more involved in this little endeavour than simply getting Patsy to the package. She felt a little flit of irritation that her best friend had watched her get more and more anxious over the last week and said nothing. This was quickly replaced, however, with a little buzz of happiness that apparently multiple people had banded together to make this little surprise happen. 

She made her way quickly to the medium sized tent on the perimeter of the camp that had been requisitioned for the incendiary project, though the materials had yet to arrive. 

Stopping just outside the entrance, she paused for a moment, stepping to the side. She’d never had a surprise planned for her, or not a good one at least, and while she trusted that Delia wouldn’t do anything to make her too uncomfortable, she was a little nervous about simply barging in. What if this turned out to be something unpleasant or messy or, Heaven forbid, some kind of _group_ activity? She felt her anxiety spike. 

She took a deep breath and harshly reprimanded herself, ‘Stop being ridiculous Patience, you don’t need to be in complete control of everything you participate in.’ She decided to just take a quick look, to calm her nerves. 

As she turned and glanced through the flap, what she saw brought a broad grin to her lips and immediately dissipated her anxiety. 

Delia was on a small strip in the middle of the room that was demarcated with what looked like blue painter’s tape and surrounded by thin camp mattresses stacked on the floor. Dressed in her own all-white fencing kit, the brunette was brandishing what looked to Patsy like an épée. Her face was a mask of intense concentration as she hopped to and fro with surprisingly technically correct fencing form, apparently sparring with an invisible opponent. Patsy noted that, quite adorably, the brunette seemed to be continuously mumbling to herself. Suddenly, Delia lunged forward with remarkable speed, followed by an immediate exclamation of frustration. 

‘Damn it, Delia, concentrate! If you turn your shoulder, you leave yourself vulnerable to a riposte.’

Hiding behind the tent flap, surreptitiously watching the Welshwoman pace back into an en garde position, Patsy felt her heart might burst. Somehow, Delia had done it. She had found, or Patsy rather suspected made, all of the materials. The blades, the masks, the kits, the strip. It must have been a tremendous undertaking, but Delia had done it…for _her_. 

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, she simply stood and watched for a few moments more, captivated by the utter charm of Delia’s look of fierce determination, her surprising speed, her _impressive_ athleticism…Patsy could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Deciding suddenly that continuing to stand and stare was verging on the voyeuristic, she took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and strode into the tent just as Delia was releasing another frustrated exclamation. 

‘Who’s winning?’ She called out jovially, ‘It rather sounds like your invisible opponent may have the upper hand.’ 

Delia spun around to face Patsy, a look of surprise and embarrassment briefly flitting across her face before being replaced by a broad, beaming smile. 

‘Patsy! You surprised me!’ 

Patsy cocked her head to the side, ‘You were expecting someone else?’ 

‘Oh no, it’s not that. I suppose I was just concentrating a bit…intensely. I didn’t hear you coming.’ 

‘You _did_ look quite fiercely focused.’ 

Delia’s eyebrows shot up and her lips fell into a knowing smirk, ‘Patience Mount, have you been standing just outside spying on me?’

Patsy realized she’d been caught, but felt like denial was the option that saved her the most dignity. Still, she knew a small smile was betraying her as she mumbled, ‘No.’

Delia narrowed her eyes, ‘Fibber!’ She paused for a moment, continuing to gaze happily up at Patsy. Then, taking a deep breath, she gestured in the general direction of the strip, ‘Well, I hope you like your surprise. You’ve been so fabulously supportive over the last several weeks, and I suppose I just wanted to find a way to say ‘Thank You’…for listening, and for giving me advice, for stealing pistachios, for...well, just for being an all-around rock.’ 

Patsy laughed, ‘I’m not sure anyone’s ever described me as a rock before.’

Delia looked at her earnestly, ‘Well then they’ve been giving you entirely too little credit.’ 

A bit taken aback, Patsy decided to divert the conversation before it delved any deeper into the topic of emotional support. 

‘In that case, you’ve done a fabulous job of saying thanks. Truly, I never imagined I’d ever get to fence again. It’s an absolutely wonderful surprise. How on earth did you pull it off?’ She narrowed her eyes slightly and jokingly added, ‘Other than once again abusing my stock-taking systems, of course.’ 

Delia looked down slightly shame-faced, ‘Ah yes, I’m sorry about that. Monica Joan informed me that she was concerned about your mental state. She said you hadn’t recognized Sylvia Plath. I figured it had something to do with the sieves. If I’d known she was going to request one so soon, I would have asked for three.’ 

‘First of all, in my defence, it wasn't the most well-known Plath poem. Secondly, I’m not sure how many you ordered was quite the point.’ 

When Delia continued to look guiltily away Patsy added, ‘Though considering it was all in service of this fabulous surprise, I understand why you didn’t tell me, and I suppose I can forgive you this once.’ Delia’s eyes shot up and she beamed up at Patsy. ‘Just don’t go making a habit out of it. Or, I suppose I should say, any more of a habit than you already have.’ 

Delia exaggeratedly held her hand over her heart, ‘I won’t. Promise.’ 

Patsy cocked her head to the side, ‘Why were you talking to Monica Joan today? Are we to be treated to one of your already famous Welsh puddings this evening?’ 

Delia, while obviously pleased at the compliment to her cooking, shook her head, ‘Sadly, no. I’m working on a little project for her. Well, for everyone, really, but it’s related to her answer to the Before the Reckoning game at Barbara’s welcome dinner.’ 

Patsy’s heart clenched and her stomach dropped. Was Delia working on projects for _everyone_? She had hoped that this entire fencing endeavour was perhaps some kind of special gesture, something just for her. But it appeared it was simply Patsy’s turn. Looking into Delia’s eyes she could see that the brunette had picked up on her shift in mood and looked slightly confused. Deciding to deflect, Patsy gestured over to where two fencing masks sat on one of the mattress pads, ‘I take it that’s where I can find the missing sieves now?’ 

‘Ah, yes!’ Delia hopped over to the masks excitedly, ‘These were quite the adventure, but I think they turned out quite well.’ 

Patsy took the mask Delia offered her and investigated it, noting the quality of the grommets before slipping it over her head. It fit wonderfully. She pulled it off again, suitably impressed. 

‘It turned out exceedingly well.’ She pointed at the sword still in Delia’s hand, ‘And I see you chose épée.’ 

‘Well, Winifred and I spent a few days making one of those electrified fencing vests…a lamé I think they’re called,’ Patsy nodded, ‘But we couldn’t get it to register a hit without mildly electrocuting the wearer, so eventually we scrapped that idea and decided to go with épée because you can hit your opponent anywhere on their body.’ 

Patsy’s brow furrowed with concern, ‘Electrocuted? I certainly hope you didn’t persevere in _that_ endeavour for very long.’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘It was very mild. Anyway, I think at some point it became sort of a personal challenge for Winifred. I believe she’s still fiddling with it, though I’m not entirely sure why. We had to make the épée decision pretty early on, actually, because Barbara needed the specifications for the weapon.’ 

Delia picked up the other sword and handed it to Patsy, ‘We ended up just having to go with a French grip because we didn’t want to risk an ill-fitting pistol grip. I hope that’s alright.’ 

Patsy held up the sword and swung it several times, getting a feel for its weight and grip. It was actually stunning how well constructed it was. She pressed the tip to the ground and jumped slightly as the sword emitted a harsh buzzing sound. 

‘Ah yes,’ Delia interjected, ‘Given that we couldn’t figure out a safe electrical system, we designed it so that the sword itself beeped. It’s not ideal, but if we’re both honest about floor and bell guard hits, I think we’ll be able to make it work.’ 

Patsy looked over at Delia and noticed that the Welshwoman seemed distinctly tense. Patsy realized her subdued responses were undoubtedly being interpreted as disappointment. She felt a sudden stab of guilt. Damn it. The _last_ thing she wanted was for Delia to feel bad, especially after putting together such an incredible experience. She rushed to recover. 

‘This really is all so frightfully impressive, Delia. The blade is wonderfully balanced, the mask is absolutely ingenious, the jackets, the strip, just…everything is…perfect. And your knowledge is equally admirable. I had no idea you knew so much about fencing.’ 

Delia relaxed noticeably as she responded, ‘I didn’t, actually. I had to rely on Winifred, Trixie and Barbara for pretty much everything. Oh, and a British Fencing manual Fred was able to scrounge up. When you mentioned fencing the night of the dance, I didn’t even know the difference between foil, épée and sabre. I just knew I wanted to make this happen for you.’ 

Patsy’s heart leapt back into her throat. That wasn’t something you said to someone you were treating out of obligation. Patsy chided herself for her tendency to overthink absolutely everything. She beamed back at Delia. 

‘And I’m so very happy that you did.’ She looked Delia right in the eyes, ‘Thank you so much for this Delia. It’s a tremendously thoughtful and wonderful surprise.’ 

Delia grinned, her nervousness entirely dissipated. Patsy held her gaze for a few moments more before taking a small breath and continuing. 

‘Now, as excited as I am about destroying you on the fencing strip’ Delia raised an amused eyebrow at that, ‘I _do_ feel obligated to do my due diligence and make sure Trixie isn’t currently trapped in the medical tent entirely by herself. I understand her desire to treat me to this experience, but I would feel quite terrible.’ 

‘There’s no need for concern on that front,’ Delia assured, ‘When I mentioned I had a small surprise planned for you, Phyllis actually volunteered to cover your shift. She said she’s just so happy to be able to walk around and feel useful again, she didn’t mind covering everyone’s shift for a week. I _think_ she was exaggerating, but I’m almost certain Trixie’s going to hold her to it.’ 

‘Delia, this hardly qualifies as a small surprise. You must have put dozens of hours of work into this.’ 

Delia shrugged and looked a bit defiant, ‘Phyllis doesn’t need to know _everything_ I do.’ 

Looking suddenly awkward, Delia gazed down at the ground, and kicked it lightly with her toe, ‘Speaking of Phyllis and knowing what I’m doing, before we begin, I have a confession. I haven’t been completely honest with you.’ 

Patsy was intrigued and waited patiently for Delia to continue. 

‘There hasn’t been a project for Phyllis or for Julienne or for camp at all, really. I haven’t been working with you for the last week because…well, because Winifred’s been giving me an intensive fencing course.’ She began speaking rapidly, her nervousness almost palpable, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth and I’m sorry I lost out on an entire week of getting to work with you. I really missed you, but you said the thing you missed most from before the Reckoning was testing your wits and speed and skill, so I wanted to be able to at least hold my own a little bit. So it wouldn’t just be incredibly boring for you. Or too much of a let-down.’ 

Delia stopped her rambling and looked up tentatively. Patsy could hardly believe that she had heard the words she had hoped but dared not expect to hear tumble out of Delia’s mouth. Staring at the brunette, she spoke so softly it was almost a whisper, ‘You missed me?’ 

Delia broke into a broad smile, shedding her nervousness, ‘Of _course_ I missed you, you fool. Spending time with you is the best part of my day!’ 

Patsy thought she must be literally glowing with happiness. This _was_ something special. She knew she had the goofiest grin on her face as she responded, ‘I’m the same.’ 

They stood there for a moment just kind of staring at each other. Patsy wondered if this was one of those _moments_ she had trusted she would know. Delia’s eyes were filled with eagerness and excitement. 

Patsy shook her head slightly and re-focused on the task at hand. Delia had put a great deal of time and effort into this surprise, and Patsy needed to honour that. Delia was eager to fence; to test out her newfound skills. 

Putting on her haughtiest airs, she circled behind Delia onto the strip, lightly twirling the tip of the épée in the direction of the brunette. 

‘Well, Ms Busby, you’ve missed out on a great deal of what would’ve undoubtedly been _highly_ compelling quality time with yours truly. Let’s test out your newfound skills, shall we? To see if the sacrifice proves to have been worth it.’ 

Delia looked amused, ‘You seem quite confident that _your_ skills won’t have deteriorated, considering you haven’t fenced in over a decade.’ 

Patsy spoke with intentional pretention, ‘I was _nationally_ ranked, Delia.’ 

Delia laughed, ‘I’m sure the competition in the girls under twelve category was fierce.’ 

Patsy’s eyes narrowed, ‘Oh it was. Candace Liu in particular was a nemesis of mine. She thought she was so high and mighty with her Leon Paul kit. But I still won that bronze medal match fair and square. Despite what her father said.’ 

‘Well well, I never knew you had this competitive side, Pats. Perhaps I need to be concerned about your honesty on floor hits, considering it sounds like you have a sordid fencing past.’ 

Patsy chuckled, ‘ _You’re_ the one who chose not to invite a referee to this affair. I’m sure Winifred would have obliged.’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘What can I say, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment of having anyone else see the humbling of formerly _nationally ranked_ Patience Mount at the hands of upstart rookie Delia Busby.’ 

‘Strong words, Ms Busby. Let’s see whether you can back them up.’ Patsy put on her mask and placed her left foot on her line. She got into the en garde position, épée held firmly but not too tightly in her left hand. 

Delia looked surprised, ‘I didn’t know you were left-handed.’ 

Patsy responded teasingly, ‘I think you’ll find there’s a lot about me that you don’t know.’

Delia chuckled as she put on her own mask and got into position.

‘En garde’ Delia began, with a frankly adorably muddled French accent. 

‘Prêtes’ Patsy responded, her accent flawless. 

‘Allez!’

Patsy was expecting at least several moments of tentative sizing each other up, the standard épée strategy when faced with an unknown opponent. What she _wasn’t_ expecting was an immediate, aggressive attack, as Delia lunged forward instantly with extraordinary speed. She was so taken aback that her parry was in no way strong enough to deflect Delia’s thrust, and she felt the tip of the brunette’s blade strike her firmly in the right shoulder. Delia’s sword let out an authoritative buzz, and the shorter woman whooped with glee. 

‘Aha! First point to the rookie! Don’t look so shocked, Ms Mount, your English ranking is no match for my Welsh speed and ingenuity.’

In spite of her mild consternation, Patsy couldn’t help smiling at that, ‘First of all, it was a _British_ ranking, and second, we’ll see about that.’ 

They set up again, and this time, when Delia unwisely lunged immediately, Patsy was prepared, easily parrying the thrust and catching Delia in the side with an efficient riposte. 

She shot Delia a small smirk, ‘I don’t know if I told you this, but épée was my speciality. It’s going to take a lot more than one swift attack to throw me off my game.’ 

Delia looked ready to take on the challenge as they got into position again. After the first two quick points, the bout settled into something of a rhythm. Delia’s strategy was obviously one of outright aggression, and Patsy spent much of her time consciously retreating. She didn’t mind, however, as her preferred strategy had always been the sly and unexpected counter-attack. It was why she’d always been so drawn to épée. 

As the bout progressed, Patsy couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun. Getting to remember her old skills and use her muscles for something other than manning water pumps, carrying boxes and lifting patients. She felt a rush of exhilaration as her mind raced to analyse Delia’s technique and assess her strengths and weaknesses. 

Delia had the distinct edge in the realm of speed and raw athleticism, but Patsy had both the greater reach and the experience to know how to use it to her advantage. She also had the decided benefit of understanding how to analyse the bout in-progress in order to adapt her approach to distance and rhythm. In fact, the only thing that prevented the bout from being completely lopsided in favour of the redhead was that Delia’s total lack of traditional fencing knowledge rendered her entirely unpredictable, a trait that, when combined with her speed, made her an unexpectedly formidable opponent. Well, that and the fact that Patsy was fencing left-handed, a decision she had initially made to spare the brunette’s feelings, but that now was looking less and less like it had been necessary. 

The reason for the mattress pads became clear several minutes in, as Patsy watched Delia tumble over into them after a successful passing flèche attack caught her in the side. Delia shot back up triumphantly. 

‘Ha! I believe that pulls me to within four! Five to nine.’ 

Patsy watched with amusement as Delia make her way back to the strip, ‘You know, there are ways to carry out that particular manoeuvre that _don’t_ involve toppling over afterwards.’ 

‘Are you trying to give me pointers in the middle of a bout, Patsy? Or are you just trying to stall my inevitable comeback?’

Patsy shook her head, ‘I’m _trying_ to ensure that your competitive fire doesn’t cause you to accidently impale yourself.’ 

Delia’s eyes twinkled, ‘It hasn’t happened yet. Anyway, there’ll be plenty of time for lessons later, if you’re still up for getting a few pointers after your defeat. En garde!’

Patsy let out a small chuckle. Delia’s ludicrous bravado and fierce competitiveness were completely adorable. She herself was treating the bout as more of an intellectual athletic exercise. A chance to recall her skills, to have some fun, to connect with Delia. 

However, after two more quick hits for the brunette pulled her within two, Patsy felt her own competitive juices begin to flow. Tentatively, always wary of losing control, she allowed the raw emotion to slowly seep in. She kept her brain alert and active, but let a fierce desire to not lose spread through her, tightening her focus, speeding her reflexes. 

Delia lunged at her yet again, and for the first time in over a decade, Patsy felt a surge of adrenaline not because of fear or stress or pain, but because of an urgent need to _win_. Her heart rate elevated as she allowed the feeling to wash over her. It was absolutely glorious. She moved with previously unseen speed and grace to parry and countered with a ferocity that wasn’t entirely intended. 

Delia seemed to pick up on the change in the tenor of the bout, and though her brow furrowed with resolve, Patsy was simply too skilled. Now in an almost trance-like state, the redhead scored six quick points in succession to bring the bout to an end. 

Patsy pulled off her mask and stood trying to catch her breath, a little overwhelmed by the lingering high left from her surge of adrenaline. 

Delia removed her own mask and eyed Patsy with a look that the redhead couldn’t quite place. 

‘Well, I must say those last six points were…something else. It’s like you became a different person. What happened?’ 

‘I’m not entirely sure, honestly. I think I really let myself care if I won or lost.’ 

Delia chortled at that, ‘I’ll try not to be insulted by what that means about the points before that. Though I suppose I’ll always be able to say I scored seven touches against former under twelve _British_ bronze medallist Patience Mount...on my first try! Just to throw a bit of a damper on your newfound competitive fire.’ 

Patsy was a little surprised by the distinct edge that crept into Delia’s voice with the last statement. She should have recognized it as a slightly bruised ego and been gentle with the brunette, but now that her own competitive side had been awoken, she heard it lash out before she really had a chance to stop herself. 

‘Don’t be too pleased with yourself. I’m not actually left-handed. You may not have scored _any_ points if I were actually fighting with my dominant hand.’

Patsy watched, feeling immediately regretful and a bit helpless, as Delia’s look shifted from amused annoyance to disbelief mixed with hurt and a slight glint of anger. 

‘You’ve been holding back? Why? Because you thought I couldn’t cut it? No, I absolutely won’t stand for it. I won’t be the subject of anyone’s _pity_. Come on, we’re fencing again. And this time you’re doing it for real. _Right_ handed.’ 

‘Delia, I—’

‘Now, Patsy. And don’t you dare hold back.’ 

Patsy sighed as she watched Delia get into position. She couldn’t imagine any scenario in which this could possibly end well, and she was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Destroying the brunette would undoubtedly make her competitive side irate. Letting her score a few touches would, Patsy feared, be unforgivable. She decided to just do what came most naturally to her: shut off her emotions and fence. 

It was an absolute bloodbath. Delia’s anger caused her to become tight and inflexible, negating her only real advantage. As her frustration increased, so did the problem, and Patsy quickly had a sizeable point advantage. 

Patsy tried her hardest to shut off her emotions, but the longer it went on, the more horrible she felt. She had just wanted this to stay light-hearted and fun, but one profoundly foolish comment had thoroughly ruined the mood. She needed to find a way to fix this. 

After Patsy’s eighth consecutive touch, Delia roared in frustration as she stalked back to her starting point. Standing in the en garde position, Patsy noticed Delia was breathing heavily and her body was taught with tension. The redhead could practically _see_ the anger radiating off of her small, compact form. There was simply no way this was productive or cathartic for either of them. It needed to end now. 

Patsy pulled off her mask, setting it down on the strip, and approached Delia. 

‘What are you doing, Patsy? Come on, we’re fencing! Why are you stopping?’ The brunette sounded livid. 

Patsy remained calm, stopping an arms-length away from Delia before softly saying, ‘Take off your mask Delia. Come on, we’re done for now.’ 

The Welshwoman looked defiant, ‘What? No! Why do you get to decide that? I’m not some child that needs to be babied!’

Patsy reached out, lightly touched Delia’s right arm, and looked directly into the brunette’s eyes, which sparkled with insubordination through the mask. 

‘Delia, I’m sorry I fenced you left-handed. I didn’t mean it to be disrespectful, but I can see how it came across that way. I did it because I’ve actually fenced much more recently than when I was eleven, and in much more dire circumstances. I was trying to keep this light and fun and somewhat even, but I can see now that it was insulting to you and all of the effort you’ve put in to learning. You are an astoundingly good fencer for someone who’s known about the sport for several weeks. Your speed, instincts, and athleticism are, well, extremely impressive. You don’t have anything to prove.’ 

Patsy ran her hand down Delia’s arm until she reached the sword, which she gently removed from the Welshwoman’s grasp. Delia, looking a little shocked, let her. Patsy continued.

‘Now, we can keep going if you want, but first you need to take a moment to calm down. Being relaxed is probably the most important facet of épée, and right now you’re so tense you wouldn’t be able to score a touch if I was defending myself with a griddle pan.’

Delia closed her eye as she took a deep breath and removed her mask. When she opened them again, the defiance was gone, replaced with a combination of embarrassment and guilt. 

Patsy walked over and picked up a water bottle from near the strip and held it out as a sort of peace offering. Delia took it with a wan smile and sat on the floor. Patsy followed, releasing a deep sigh as she settled on the ground. They both sat there for a few moments, taking sips in silence. Finally, Delia inhaled deeply and broke the stillness. 

‘I’m sorry, Patsy. I got too competitive and I let my emotions get away from me. I just get…touchy if people think I’m incapable or not strong enough. But that doesn’t excuse me losing my temper and ruining everything.’ 

Patsy smiled softly, ‘You haven’t _ruined_ anything, Deels. Getting to fence again, here, with you, where it’s just for fun, well, it was even more wonderful than I had dared to expect. And I hope you heard, really heard, what I said before. I didn’t fence left handed because I thought you were weak or incapable. And it certainly wasn’t out of pity. I did it because I’m something of an expert and you’re a beginner and I wanted the bout to last as long as possible.’

Delia kept her eyes on the ground as she mumbled, ‘Why? So you could toy with me?’

‘No. So I could share the experience with you.’ She reached out and placed a hand on Delia’s leg, leaning down until the brunette looked up into her eyes. ‘I should’ve been upfront that that’s what I was doing. And I certainly shouldn’t have told you in such a thoughtless way. I also let my competitive side get away from me, and I was unduly harsh. Will you forgive me?’

Though she continued to look thoroughly abashed, Delia smirked a little at that, ‘Only if you can forgive me for being a complete and utter tit.’ 

Patsy smiled, ‘You’re already forgiven.’ She took a deep breath and slapped her thighs as she moved to stand up, hoping to shift the tone, ‘Now, what shall we do next? I believe Trixie said I wasn’t allowed in her sights until dinner, so we have some time to fill.’ 

Delia looked down at the ground again, adorably bashful, ‘Actually, there _is_ something I’d like to do with you, though I don’t know if you’ll want to anymore, after how I’ve acted.’ 

Patsy felt herself blush slightly as she thought of all of the activities such an open-ended statement could be referring to. She tried to sound as calm and measured as she could as she responded, ‘Try me.’ 

‘I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me a little fencing lesson. So that I can improve.’ She hurried added, ‘I completely understand if you’d rather not.’ 

‘You mean you’re actually willing to admit you’re not an expert at something you’ve been working on for a week?’ Patsy teased lightly. 

‘Don’t push your luck, Pats,’ Delia’s voice was light, belying the warning nature of her words. 

‘Sorry. Nothing would make me happier than to give you a fencing lesson.’ She reached down to help Delia up off the floor, ‘I’m just happy you’re feeling better.’

‘You’re remarkably good at that, you know.’ 

‘What?’

‘Making me feel better. The night you followed me out of the dining tent, you said that you didn’t know much about emotional support. That you didn’t know if you’d do the right things. But somehow, you pretty much always do. In fact, other than a distinct tendency towards cheekiness, I’m not sure you have any actual flaws.’ 

Patsy laughed, ‘That’s just because you don’t know me very well.’ 

‘Well, I look forward to getting to know you better, even if that means discovering the dark underbelly of Patience Mount.’ 

Patsy could feel herself blushing under the weight of Delia’s earnestness even as a stab of fear and panic shot through her. She didn’t ever want Delia to know her darkest pains. To judge her for them. To be burdened with them. 

Unsure of how to respond, she once again chose to deflect, ‘As fun as that sounds, I believe you have some fencing skills in need of attention.’ 

‘Ah yes, that I do. Shall we?’ 

Patsy picked up both swords, handing one to Delia, and commenced the lesson. 

Being newly aware of the extent of Delia’s fiery competitiveness, Patsy was a little nervous, fearing the brunette might be irascible and impatient. As it turned out, Delia was an exemplary student. She listened carefully with intense and complete focus, absorbing Patsy’s tips and suggestions seemingly instantly, and effortlessly incorporating them into practice.

The brunette seemed to be genuinely content and Patsy was thoroughly enjoying herself. She’d always thought she would make an excellent instructor, and was pleased that it appeared her self-assessment was accurate. 

Delia’s concentration and desire to learn made Patsy acutely aware of the need to remain focused on instruction, despite the fact that observing Delia in order to give pointers and advice was becoming increasingly…distracting. The brunette’s toned shoulder muscles were visible even through the fencing jacket, and the well-defined curves of her legs and rear were very attractively highlighted by the snug fencing pants. Patsy found herself getting consistently flustered when Delia would ask earnestly, ‘Watch my arm and back here, Pats, am I keeping them in the right line?’ or ‘Are you watching my hips, Pats? Am I moving them correctly?’ 

Despite her increasingly ruffled state, Patsy did what she thought was an admirable job of staying on task. She had managed to make it through discussions of remaining balanced on passing attacks, using the French grip’s flexibility to increase reach, cleaning up footwork. 

She wasn’t perfect, however. At one point, when Delia was having difficulty understanding exactly how to align her body, Patsy rather suddenly came up and gently but firmly grabbed the brunette’s hips to reposition them. At that moment she was completely caught up in coaching, but then Delia’s breath hitched at the contact and Patsy lost her train of thought entirely. She recovered by mumbling something about the need to keep the shoulders aligned as she backed off of the strip. Delia also seemed distracted for a moment or two, and Patsy chided herself for having been too forward and ruining the Welshwoman’s concentration. She was sure to maintain a safe distance between them for the rest of the lesson. 

Finally, after about an hour, Delia stepped off of the strip, looking satisfied.

‘This has been truly fabulous, Patsy, but I think my brain might explode if it gets any additional information just now. I think I need to take a break.’ 

Patsy nodded, ‘I understand completely, usually fencing lessons are much shorter. I’m already impressed with your stamina.’ 

Delia quirked an eyebrow as she shot Patsy a devilish smirk and the redhead could feel herself blushing. She rushed to recover, ‘I mean, I’m just impressed by how much information you’re able to retain. Usually fencing lessons cover one skill, two at most.’ 

Delia looked amused as she reached down for a water bottle, ‘Well, I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to learn from _something of an expert_. Winifred’s fabulous, but her lessons were…not as informative. Don’t tell her I said that, though.’ 

‘My lips are sealed.’ 

Delia looked pensive as she stood drinking, ‘I feel a bit bad you just had to stand there and teach, though. It didn’t really allow you to get your competitive juices flowing again.’

‘Nonsense. I love teaching. And the better you get, the more fun and challenging it’ll be next time.’ 

Delia looked a little surprised, ‘Next time? Even after how I acted?’ 

‘Of course. It would be a shame for all this work to only be appreciated once. And next time, you’ll have to deal with me right-handed, so you’d best be prepared.’ 

Delia beamed as she began to gather the fencing gear together, ‘Oh, I will be. A few more lessons, and you won’t know what hit you.’ 

‘I look forward to it.’ 

They grinned at each other as they both set about cleaning and reorganizing the space. 

They had worked in amicable silence for several minutes when suddenly, Delia exclaimed, ‘Oh! I know what we can do now! Let’s spar again, but this time, hand to hand combat!’ 

‘What?’ Patsy was caught completely off-guard. Where on earth had that suggestion come from? 

‘I’m willing to bet that if you know to use crossbows and ninja stars, you were taught how to fight with your hands. And I’d guess we’ll be much more evenly matched.’ 

‘I mean, yes, I _was_ taught how, but…I’m not sure…aren’t you exhausted?’ 

‘My brain was tired of new fencing information, but this would be completely different. I’m itching to be _moving_. And it would give you a chance to get that little rush from competition again. It’ll be great fun!’ Delia was practically hopping with excitement.

‘You have very odd ideas about what constitutes a fun activity.’ 

‘I just like opportunities to test my skills. Like you said before, there’s a certain joy in doing it when it’s _not_ life or death.’ 

Patsy considered her options. She _had_ been able to control her emotions while fencing, but hand to hand was a different beast entirely. Could she keep them reined in? She wasn’t sure. 

‘I…I don’t know, Delia. I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.’ 

Delia’s brow furrowed, ‘Is it because you think I’ll get too competitive? I promise, I won’t. I swear, I _am_ capable of engaging in friendly competition without losing my cool.’ 

Patsy felt a little trapped. She didn’t want to tell Delia the real reason for her reticence. That felt far too scary. But if she refused now, the brunette would think Patsy didn’t trust her to maintain her composure. She looked over at Delia, who was looking up at her with a mixture of hope and guilt. Patsy could see she was teetering on the edge of hurt. She sighed. 

‘I suppose we can… _if_ we keep it light.’ 

‘Deal!’ Delia skipped over and began setting up the mattresses to form a square of mats as Patsy just stood there and tried to control her anxiety. 

Once the area was set up, Delia reached back and unzipped her fencing jacket, removing it to reveal a tight black sports vest. This was enough to jolt Patsy out of her worried stupor. The ensemble of the vest and the fencing pants was…extremely flattering. Before she had a chance to really think about what she was saying, Patsy blurted out, ‘Where did you get _that_?’ 

Delia looked down at her shirt, ‘What, this? Oh, I’ve had it forever. It’s just that Phyllis always makes us wear those bloody uniforms, so I never get to wear it.’ She looked up at Patsy and smiled mischievously, ‘Why, do you like it?’

‘Yes. I mean…it’s nice…and looks very…comfortable. For things like… fencing… and… relaxing.’ Patsy finally stopped her stumbling ramble and cursed her complete lack of composure. 

Delia’s eyes twinkled with mirth, ‘Things like fencing and relaxing, huh? Who knew this top was so versatile?’ She made her way over to a bag in the corner. ‘Here, these definitely take away from the relaxing vibe of the outfit, but I think they’re worth it.’ 

She pulled out two pairs of black leather half-finger sparring mitts, tossing one to Patsy. 

‘You brought sparring mitts?’ Patsy’s eyes narrowed, ‘Wait a moment…was this part of your plan all along?’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘My hope, perhaps, but not my plan. I just wanted to have them here just in case. Barbara hasn’t agreed to spar with me in ages, so I was hoping you’d oblige.’ 

Patsy cocked her head to the side, ‘You’ve managed to put Barbara off? Should I be concerned?’

‘Oh no, it’s just that I get testy when I constantly lose, and Barbara’s…well…let’s just say I wasn’t entirely joking at that dinner when I said she was capable of some terrifying things.’ 

‘You keep saying that about her, and…are we talking about the same Barbara?’ 

Delia laughed, ‘Don’t let the sweet and bumbling exterior fool you. She’s more than capable.’ 

Patsy removed her own jacket, uncovering her uniform top. Delia looked a little horrified. 

‘Have you been wearing that long-sleeved monstrosity this entire time? You must be positively boiling!’ 

Patsy shrugged, ‘We’re in tents in the Pennines, Deels. I’m not sure I’ve been truly warm in two years, let alone overheating.’ 

She rolled up the sleeves as Delia bounded onto the mats, ‘Well, we’ll see if we can get your internal temperature up a bit.’ 

Patsy quirked an eyebrow in Delia’s direction and shot her little half smile.

The brunette continued cheekily, ‘Come on then, it’ll give you more chances to marvel at my _impressive_ athleticism.’ 

Patsy shook her head in amusement as she stepped onto the mat, ‘Don’t make me regret paying you a compliment, Deels.’ 

‘I can assure you I _never_ want you to regret that.’ Delia crouched down, getting into sparring position, ‘Shall we?’ 

Patsy nodded, mirrored Delia’s position, and they began. 

They were, indeed, much more evenly matched. Much like in fencing, Delia had the edge in speed and athleticism, while Patsy had the advantage of size, patience, and training. Patsy concentrated on keeping her instincts under control as they bobbed and weaved and grappled and kicked. For the most part, she was succeeding, though she was aware that having to hold back was rather severely handicapping her fighting skills. She worked on letting that go, contenting herself with getting to see Delia having so much fun. Trying not to let the brunette consistently getting the upper hand bother her. 

On the whole, her safer, rational self was prevailing, and she even found she was enjoying herself. Getting to use skills she hadn’t used in ages. Getting plenty of opportunity to touch Delia in a way that wasn’t fraught with the anxiety of interpreting what it meant. It was exciting. 

Not that all moments of touch were necessarily painless, as she found out when she had Delia in a headlock and had the honour of being on the receiving end of an elbow to the ribs. The brunette was careful to keep it light, however, and the intensity of the session stayed low. Patsy was grateful. She was determined to keep this exercise intellectual and emotionless. So what if Delia won handily?

Still…as she found herself flat on her back and pinned again, this time from a sweeping kick to her calves that had knocked her completely off of her feet, she felt the slightest twinge of irritation. Of desire to show Delia just how strong she could be. To set her skills free. To _win_. 

She _knew_ it was dangerous, but perhaps…if she let herself care just a _little_. She had been able to control it when she was fencing, and it had been so glorious. Surely she’d be able to contain it now. 

Very cautiously, she let some of her emotion, some of her competitive fire, flow through her, and once again, she felt it hone her skills and reactions. The fight was almost instantly more even. 

Delia recognized it almost immediately, and looked pleased. 

‘ _There_ she is. I knew competitive Pats was in there somewhere.’ 

Patsy just smirked back, launching an attack that left the brunette having to duck swiftly away. 

They continued sparring for several more minutes, Patsy now thoroughly enjoying the thrumming of adrenaline through her system. She began to relax her hold on her emotions ever so slightly, letting her instincts take a modicum of control. She felt strong and powerful and positively exhilarated. 

She managed to get Delia in a headlock again, this time manoeuvring her body to be safe from flying elbows, and even pinning one of the brunette’s arms when she tried to go for the ribs. Patsy expected Delia to tap out. To declare defeat and start again. But perhaps because the redhead’s grip on her neck was tighter than intended, or perhaps because Delia had a surge of competitive fire herself, that’s not what happened. Instead, the Welshwoman lifted her leg and rocketed her heel back, hard, into Patsy’s knee. 

Patsy inhaled sharply as she stumbled backwards, pain ripping through her, and something inside her snapped. 

She could feel the powerful surge of emotions flow through her as she completely lost control. For one brief, fleeting moment her rational brain screamed at her to stop, before it was drowned out by pain and panic and fear and then the clear, cold silence of pure, well-trained, lethal instinct. 

Her vision narrowed, and her movements became smooth and controlled and blindingly fast. Patsy’s conscious mind had almost no awareness, let alone control. She knew that Delia was now overmatched and overwhelmed, but she felt nothing. She was vaguely cognizant of the fact that she had grabbed Delia and flipped her into the air, slamming her forcefully onto the mat. That Delia had grunted in pain and surprise. 

When she fully regained her awareness, Patsy found herself lying almost fully on top of Delia, pinning her firmly to the ground. One of the brunette’s arms was wedged underneath her in a way that _must_ have been painful, while the other was firmly in Patsy’s grasp. Their faces were inches from each other, and as Patsy re-focused her eyes, she could see that Delia was smiling up at her. 

‘I see you decided to really let yourself care again.’ Though her voice was a little strained, there was mirth in it. 

A small part of Patsy was aware that she was currently closer to Delia than she could have ever hoped. That their bodies were completely flush, their faces inches apart. That Delia’s eyes had darkened and the brunette was looking pointedly at her lips. 

But that part of her was drowned out by an icy surge of realization and fear that slammed into her, sending her tumbling back into her memories, rendering her unable to think, to react, to breathe. 

She had let her emotions get the better of her. She had completely lost control. That hadn’t happened since…since…

She pushed herself off of Delia and scrabbled backwards, scared and panicky, gasping for air. 

Delia instantly sat up, looking concerned, ‘What is it Pats? What’s wrong?’ 

Patsy was vaguely aware of Delia crawling towards her, her face etched with worry. She could barely make out the brunette’s voice, ‘Just breathe, Pats. It’s alright. You’re alright.’ 

The walls of memory closed around her. She heard the screams. She felt the stares. She had promised herself it would never happen again. Someone could have been seriously hurt. Blood pounded in her ears. She became aware of a hand resting softly on her arm. Delia’s hand. _Delia_ could have been seriously hurt. She gasped, flinched away and scrambled to her feet. 

She looked down at Delia, whose face was filled with profound concern and a hint of reflected distress. ‘Pats?’ 

Her thoughts spun like a hurricane in her mind before one distinct thought surged forward, clear and urgent. She needed to get out; she needed to keep Delia safe. 

‘I…I’m sorry’ she stuttered before turning and running out of the tent.


	12. Delia Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting a bit bulky as well, so I've split it into two once again. Enjoy!

Delia stood, eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the familiar smells wafting through the air, trying not to think too much about how royally she had mucked everything up. 

Instead she simply tried to sink back into her earliest memories…of chilly winter afternoons when the entire house was filled with the aroma of spices and fruit. Of evenings spent playing games and drawing with her tad. Of mornings cooking with her mam, getting covered in flour and giggling at her mam’s amused exasperation. Of a time when the love in her life felt expansive and endless and certain. 

A quiet, worried muttering to her left drew her from her reverie. Without opening her eyes, she addressed the source. 

‘There’s no need to be concerned, Monica Joan. I assure you it’s completely safe.’ 

Turning, she saw the old cook poking her head out of the kitchen tent, peering with trepidation at the hulking contraption to Delia’s right.

‘But surely He will punish those who seek to harness the power of fire. Such things are not meant to be reined in.’ 

Delia chuckled, ‘It’s an oven, that’s all. While there are things that can go wrong, our punishment is more likely to be along the lines of a burned crust than a catastrophic explosion.’ 

Monica Joan looked profoundly sceptical, ‘It doesn’t _look_ like an oven.’ 

Delia examined her creation. She had taken an old partially rusted metal barrel and worked with Barbara to reinforce it and place it horizontally onto a metal stand. Then, she had wandered cautiously outside of camp, bringing a beacon with her this time, until she had found suitably clay-like soil to coat the top three quarters of the barrel as a form of insulation. Finally, in the most technically challenging part, she had taken burners that Fred had scrounged from the furnace of an abandoned house and connected and converted them so that they applied an even, adjustable flame along the belly of the barrel. A long, snaking line connected the oven to one of the camp’s two propane canisters. It _did_ look a bit odd, she had to admit. It worked, though, and Delia had always believed that that’s what really mattered. 

She spoke with soft certainty, ‘Things don’t need to look a certain way to be what they are.’ 

She noticed Monica Joan’s shoulders ease and a soft smile come to her lips. The old woman nodded with a look of satisfaction, ‘Indeed. For things will be what they are, regardless of the fears _or_ desires of man.’ 

They stood next to each other in silence, watching the heat radiate off into the unseasonably chilly afternoon. 

Delia pondered Monica Joan’s words as she found her thoughts drifting to the subjects she had been studiously trying to avoid. Things will be what they are. That was never something Delia had been good at accepting. Or at least not since the Reckoning. The Reckoning. She had successfully blocked out that part of her life for _years_. But now, it just kept coming back. Trying to imagine what might have happened in Patsy’s past made her think about her own. She felt the familiar sensations of anger and regret. 

As a very young girl, Delia’s world had been good and filled with the love of her parents, her friends, her community. They kept her largely insulated from the foreboding changes that were sweeping across the country. But then the Reckoning happened, and not even the greatest love could shield Delia from feeling the effects.

At first she had been confused. She didn’t understand the children being taken from her classes, the families being taken from their homes, the willingness of everyone else to stand aside quietly as it happened. Then she heard about a group fighting against the Redemptionists. They called themselves the Solidarity Bloc and their very existence was treated as a dangerous piece of intelligence, whispered in private, ever fearful of the wrong person overhearing. 

As their actions became larger and harder to ignore, the news called them terrorists. To Delia they seemed like heroes. She voiced this opinion at school one day, and the teacher took her and beat her in front of the entire class so severely she hadn’t been able to sit for a week. He called her a traitor. A danger to the country. She was nine years old. 

She had expected her mam and tad to support her. To be furious with the teacher. To storm into the headmaster’s office, demanding justice. Instead they simply seemed mad at _her_. They told her she had been foolish to speak out, that she needed to learn to keep her thoughts to herself, to keep her head down. That she was never, ever, to say anything like that ever again. 

That’s when the anger started. Anger at her community for looking the other way as their neighbours were marched off, at her friends for turning on each other, at her parents for seeming not to care. She couldn’t believe everyone in her life was just willing to _accept_ that this is the way the world was now. So she withdrew, becoming closed-off and sullen. 

About this time, all of the girls were transferred to their own building, where primary and secondary school were combined. Maths and science were cancelled, and most of the day seemed to consist of sitting in a room listening to a teacher drone on about the importance of the nuclear family throughout British history. Delia rarely paid any attention. 

Instead, she became transfixed by a group of older girls who her classmates said were traitors. They carried themselves with such easy confidence. She imagined that they performed clandestine actions at night, fighting against the Redemptionists, only to show up, victorious and unaffected, at school the next day. She wanted so much to _be_ one of them. To fight. To rebel. 

One day, when she was ten, she boldly sat with them at lunch, and, finding her fiery fearlessness adorable, they sort of adopted her, despite the fact that she was six years younger. She was disappointed to find that all they seemed to do was talk. About how bad the Remptionists were. About something called fascism. About progress the Bloc was making in the north, where they were apparently advancing on Leeds. 

Delia wanted so badly to _do_ something, but she figured these friends were better than nothing, so she continued to spend time with them. She knew her mam disapproved of her choice of company, but seemed to be content to allow it for now, as having friends to vent to had made Delia significantly less fiery at home. 

As resources became more and more scarce, the situation in her local community devolved considerably. The news blamed the Solidarity Bloc and encouraged all patriotic citizens to help root out the destructive element that was threatening their way of life. Neighbours began reporting each other for the most minor infractions, and Delia’s mam told her that she needed to stop spending time with the older girls. Delia outright refused. 

Then, on Delia’s eleventh birthday, she arrived at school to find all of her friends gone. In the hallways, she heard rumours they had been taken in the night. At lunch, her mam came and took her home. She explained to Delia that her friends had been sent to one of the newly opened indoctrination camps. Delia had been spared because she was so young and her mam had taken a pledge to re-train her at home. Delia never saw her friends again. She also never went back to school. 

Now that the indoctrination camps were up and running, they quickly became an ever-present part of her consciousness. A threat looming over her at all times. Misbehave, speak out, cross the line, and you could be sent to the camps. She knew she was lucky that her parents would never have her sent there, but her mam reminded her constantly that any one of her neighbours could report her at any time. Or she could fail one of the weekly home inspections required by her retraining agreement. Or she could be seen talking to the wrong person at the market. 

No one knew exactly what happened at indoctrination camps, but everyone knew it must be something terrible. Children sent there were rarely seen again, and if they were they were different. Hardened and violent and unspeakably cruel. Having a child sent to the camps was the greatest shame a family could suffer, and it ensured near total exclusion. 

So Delia tried to be good. She sat patiently through her lessons at home while also devouring all of the books on science and engineering and technology in her parent’s library. At least, before they were confiscated during one of the weekly inspections. Her tad had been so angry, and for a brief moment, she had thought her parents might actually fight back against something, but in the end they had complied. Just as they always did. 

When she turned thirteen, Delia’s mam sat her down and explained that she needed to begin preparing herself to get married to a man of the local council’s choosing. Delia was shocked. She had never in her entire life been even casually interested in boys. She didn’t really understand how anyone could be. She voiced this to her mam, who had simply sighed and said that, while she would try to delay the council as long as possible, this was just something Delia needed to come to terms with. In the end, it was just another thing for them to fight about. 

And they did fight. Constantly. Every day Delia tried to stand up to her mam. To get her to fight for those being silenced. To stand up to those doing harm. To let Delia go to the underground meetings she had heard about from the quiet girl who rationed out potatoes at the market. But every day, she failed. Her mam would explain that the most important thing was surviving, staying safe, staying invisible. She would explain to Delia that she was the most precious thing in the world to her, that it would _break_ her if anything ever happened to her little girl. And Delia just couldn’t bring herself to do that. To break her mother’s heart in the name of a greater cause. So for her mother’s sake, she chose to remain silent, to play along. But every time it made Delia feel weak and ineffective and useless. How could she take on the Redemptionists if she couldn’t even stand up to her own mam? 

One spring night when Delia was fourteen, her parents went to a patriotic citizen’s rally, leaving Delia at home, not trusting her to behave herself at such an event. No longer able to simply sit at home doing nothing, Delia decided to take action. Gathering up every ounce of courage she had, she snuck out to attend an underground solidarity meeting. She thought that she would be home before her parents; that they would never even have to know she had left. 

She was blown away by the ideas she heard, the stories that were told. Of families who were deemed unpatriotic being forced into tiny, pre-fabricated houses in heavily patrolled neighbourhoods, so their homes could be re-allocated to those classified as more ‘deserving’. Of young women being forced to choose between arranged marriage and sterilization surgery. Of people who were accused of collaborating with the Solidarity Bloc being shot in the streets. She learned that the Bloc had formed their own government in the North and there were whole cities where girls could study science and not get married and people could say what they thought without fear of beatings or imprisonment or death. She felt a fierce sense of injustice that she, that _any_ girl, was stuck here, on this side of the battle lines. Armed with this new knowledge, she knew she could never be silent. She could not simply comply anymore. Too much was at stake. And so much more was possible. 

During the closing speech, the meeting was raided. Delia never learned who had reported them. She just managed to escape by kneeing a Redemptionist in the groin, leaping off of a desk into the rafters, and crawling out a high window. She ran away as quickly as she could via backstreets, secretly happy that she had kept up her fitness with a fairly rigorous daily callisthenic routine. She arrived back home, equally terrified and exhilarated, to find her mam there, waiting, looking utterly devastated. She stood there feeling sick as her mam sobbed. She knew that she simply couldn’t stand to break her mother’s heart over and over. Couldn’t return home from Solidarity actions again and again to see the pain and disappointment in her eyes. Couldn’t stand up to her mam day after day and still fight the fight she now _knew_ she needed to. 

And so, with all of the brash, impulsive certainty of a fourteen year old, she had simply left. Packed a small bag, snuck out of her window, and walked away. Walked north. To her, it had seemed like the only option. 

She’d worked some over the years to let go of her regret and trust that she had done what felt necessary at the time. Mainly, though, she rarely let herself think about it. And she _never_ let herself reflect on the hearts she had broken. The love she had left behind. In fact, she quickly made herself forget what it felt like to love, to be loved, instead convincing herself that dedication to a cause, friendship, and loyalty were all that she needed. 

But then she had met Patsy, and feelings that she had pushed down long ago had been awakened. When Patsy had followed her out of the tent and held her as she cried, Delia had dared to let herself feel like maybe, just maybe, she deserved, no, _wanted_ to feel loved. To be one of the most important parts of someone’s life. 

The beeping of her watch jolted her out of her musings. It was time to check the bara brith. Opening the oven, she was pleased to see that the top was browning nicely. Using some old shirts as oven mitts, she pulled out the bread and stuck a small twig in it, huffing with displeasure when it came out coated in a thin layer of batter. 

‘Ah, it appears it is not quite ready to reveal its succulent mysteries to the world. More time is needed.’ Monica Joan was leaning over Delia’s shoulder, examining the pan with excitement.

The brunette grunted her agreement, ‘The top is already browning, though. It’ll be burned before the inside is done. Perhaps if I turn down the heat…’

After returning the bread to the oven, she made her way to the adjustment knob and lessened the flow of propane to the burners. She couldn’t wait until Fred was able to find a thermometer from an old grill. Though she supposed she and Monica Joan would get better at estimating temperature with time.

The cook echoed her sentiments, ‘Patience is what is required here, Ms Busby. Patience and practice. For few are adept at something the first time they try it, and none are perfect.’ 

Delia felt herself flinch at the word ‘patience’ and a pall of guilt fell over her as she heard the rest of the statement. She considered with a kind of dark humour that Patsy’s namesake was one thing she decidedly lacked. She had tried to push things, and now everything was an utter mess. 

The night after Patsy had consoled her, Delia had wanted so much to take the reins, to let Patsy know how she felt, to jump right in, but she knew deep down that Patsy had to be the one to make the first move. While Delia trusted Mary Cynthia to complete her mission, if Patsy _did_ ever find out about Plan B, and Delia had pursued her too eagerly… Well, she knew how that would look. 

So even though it was hard, and very much against her nature, she waited. And waited. And waited. She tried to send clear messages, little touches and gestures and glances. She even tried fairly brash flirtation. And there were signs that Patsy was catching on. Little looks and offhanded comments and romantic gestures. But the night of the pistachios was literally the first time Patsy had initiated physical contact. A tentative, fearful touch on Delia’s back with her legs. She had wanted to jump and shout with joy, and it had taken every bit of self-control to limit her reaction to a brief, casual smile. She feared anything more would scare Patsy off.

As she reflected later, she realized that it had taken a full eight days of pointed messaging on her part for a light touch on the back. Delia worried that, if things continued on at this pace, it might be _years_ before Patsy actually did something as forward as kissing her. 

So she decided to try a different tack. She had planned on having the fencing experience for Patsy be a kind of low-key gift. She would make swords out of something and they could kind of goof around with them. A little act of gratitude for all that Patsy had done for her. 

But after the pistachio night, Delia decided that preparing fencing gear would be a grand romantic gesture. Something to show Patsy how much she meant to Delia. How important she was. 

She became, as Barbara later pointed out, a bit obsessed. She wanted everything to be perfect. The masks, the swords, the strip, her skills. This last one proved to be a bit more challenging than she had anticipated, but she felt like she had learned fairly quickly. Barbara questioned whether simply disappearing for an entire week was the best plan when you were trying to woo someone, but Delia wanted so badly to impress Patsy with her skills, and wasting even one moment of possible practice time seemed unthinkable. She had missed Patsy so much, though. 

The experience itself started out on a rather awkward foot. She had hoped to look suave and dashing when Patsy showed up, standing in the middle of the strip with a sword in one hand and a mask in the other. Instead, Winifred forgot to run and warn her of Patsy’s impending arrival, so she was hopping around and mumbling to herself like an idiot when the redhead entered. It was utterly mortifying. 

She thought she recovered quite smoothly, however. Trixie, her enthusiastically willing partner in crime, had rather strongly insisted that Delia should tell Patsy that there hadn’t really been any project for camp, and she was very glad she followed the blonde’s advice. Delia felt she could have survived years in the desert sustained solely by the look on Patsy’s face when the brunette told her that spending time with her was the best part of her day. In fact, she _almost_ thought that Patsy would leap forward and kiss her then, but sadly the redhead seemed to think better of it, and commenced the fencing instead. 

Ugh. The fencing. What an incredible roller coaster of emotions. It started so well and was so incredibly fun. It was invigorating to get to spar with someone, and it certainly didn’t hurt that Patsy fencing was an astoundingly sexy sight. When the redhead pulled off her mask after entering another zone entirely for those last six touches, and just stood there breathing heavily, her hair slightly mussed and her face flushed with exertion, Delia didn’t know if it was possible to be more turned on. 

But then she let her pride get the better of her. It hurt to know Patsy hadn’t really been trying when Delia scored her touches, and the mocking derision of Patsy’s tone when she told Delia she was fencing with her non-dominant hand wounded her deeply. Still, that was no excuse for the way she acted. For losing control completely. She was entirely convinced that she had ruined everything. 

But Patsy was so wonderful. She stopped Delia’s downward spiral, waited patiently, gave a heartfelt apology, knew exactly what to say. In that moment, Delia was struck by how lucky she had been to find Patsy. To have earned the right to have this extraordinary woman care about her and her wellbeing. 

She wracked her brain for the best way to show her contrition and her respect, and lit upon asking for a lesson. She hoped it would be a way of acknowledging Patsy’s expertise and proving her ability to overcome her hurt pride. It was remarkably effective. Patsy was an excellent teacher and it gave her a buzz of excitement to be the sole focus of the redhead’s attention for close to a full hour. If she had been smart, she would have wrapped things up at the completion of the lesson. They could have spent the remainder of the afternoon chatting or going on a stroll or cooking something together in the kitchen tent. But instead, she’d let her hormones get the better of her. 

When she was being charitable, she told herself that she had picked up on signs from Patsy. That the redhead seemed flustered and distracted during the lesson and that Delia simply wanted to give her a little encouragement. The little nudge she needed to take the next step. 

But she knew the truth. That when Patsy grabbed her by the hips during the lesson, it felt like a bolt of lightning had shot through her and it left her momentarily breathless. It was so incredibly unexpected and wonderful and warm and exhilarating and all Delia wanted was to feel it again. To have Patsy touch her again. Well, what she _really_ wanted was for Patsy to grab her by the hips, pull her towards her and kiss her fiercely, pouring all of her pent-up longing into one searing embrace that set both of their hearts afire. But she knew _that_ particular fantasy was _highly_ unlikely, so really, she’d settle for almost any kind of touch. 

Maddeningly, Patsy seemed to have reached the exact opposite conclusion, and spent the remainder of the lesson at least two yards away at all times. At this point, Delia had waited patiently for twenty five days and had been rewarded with several light brushes across her back, a few brief pats on the shoulder, a number of lingering touches on her arm or leg and one utterly intoxicating but she suspected entirely accidental hip grab. She thought she might literally explode if she had to wait what she suspected would be another full week for Patsy to make her next move. 

So she took matters into her own hands and suggested hand-to-hand combat. Her stated reasons weren’t lies, exactly, but they obscured the primary truth that Delia just really, really wanted an excuse for physical contact. She thought that Patsy was only wary because of Delia’s previous outburst. A small voice had told her to be patient, not to push, but it was quickly overruled. Especially when she took off her fencing jacket and saw Patsy’s face. The redhead turned bright crimson and eyed her with a look that was unmistakably longing, and Delia had never been more hopeful. 

And at first, she was _so glad_ that she hadn’t listened to that quiet voice of reason. Having an excuse to touch Patsy, to grab her around her waist, to pin her to the floor, was so incredibly liberating. She had no idea why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. 

She could tell at first that Patsy was holding back, but she figured that the redhead had been caught off-guard by the entire proposition and needed a chance to get warmed up. Delia was delighted when Patsy stepped up the intensity a notch, a sure sign that she was beginning to fully engage. She looked into the Patsy’s eyes and saw joy and exhilaration, and it made her heart sing. 

That was, until Delia made her biggest mistake. It wasn’t intentionally malicious, the kick to the knee. It was simply that Patsy’s grip on her neck was tighter than was undoubtedly intended and Delia panicked. Her self-defence reflexes took over, depositing a devastating hit. She meant to apologize, but Patsy whipped around so quickly and then, well, it was like she became a different person. Delia hadn’t known someone could move that fast, and before she really had time to process, she found herself flying through the air before being summarily slammed back to earth, one arm painfully twisted underneath her. 

Her first instinct was to assure Patsy that she was alright with being beaten. That her competitive side wasn’t going to throw another tantrum. So she poked fun at their earlier situation, trying to dispel any concerns before they could come to the surface. It was only then that she became fully aware of just how close she was to Patsy. That Patsy was lying fully on top of her, breathing heavily, their lips inches apart. Delia had looked at them longingly, hoping that the moment she had waited for was finally here. But then she looked up into Patsy’s eyes. 

The intensity of the confusion and fear she saw there caused an overwhelming wave of panic to course through her body. Something was very, very wrong. Patsy scrabbled backwards, white as a sheet, gasping unevenly, and Delia was terrified. She tried to calm the redhead. To get her to breathe, to focus on her, to calm down. But it was no use. It was as if Patsy wasn’t really _there_ at all. Even though Delia knew she probably shouldn’t, she put her hand on Patsy’s arm, trying desperately to ground her. The redhead had stared at it with detached curiosity for a brief moment before suddenly gasping, ripping her arm away, stuttering a baffling apology and running out of the tent. 

Delia had never felt more terrible. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but she knew without a doubt that she had done something that had wounded Patsy profoundly. She _never_ wanted to see Patsy upset, let alone because of her. It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. 

In that instant, she realized that she didn’t just want to be an important part of Patsy’s world, she wanted Patsy to be a central part of hers. She wanted to be the one who made Patsy feel happy and comfortable and safe and fulfilled. Who shared in her joys and helped her through her sorrows. But instead, she had caused immeasurable pain. Because she couldn’t be patient, couldn’t just let things be what they were. Apparently, she had failed at every single one of Monica Joan’s odd little axioms. 

Smelling the tell tale odour of dried fruit and cinnamon, Delia moved to check the bread once again. Though the crust was a little darker than she would have liked, it was finally baked through, and she moved it out of the oven to cool while she went to shut off the gas. Monica Joan bobbed excitedly up and down as Delia cut off a large slice. The cook grabbed for the piece immediately and released a delighted moan as the sweet warm bread reached her tongue. 

As the steam from the bara brith wafted up, Delia realized that, while she had originally decided to make the oven for Monica Joan so that it wouldn’t seem like she was over-favouring Patsy, she had really made it for herself. For comfort. For a little piece of a home she had long-since left behind. 

As she bit into the bread’s soft, fruity warmth, she felt a rush of memories course through her. She tried to lose herself in them, in the rose-tinted recollections of her distant past. But suddenly, she was struck with the realization that she didn’t want to revel in the memories alone. Not anymore. She wanted to share them…with Patsy. She wanted to tell funny stories and process old memories and give the redhead a part of her past. But she couldn’t. Because Patsy wasn’t really there anymore. Not for her, at least. 

It wasn’t that Patsy was avoiding Delia, exactly. It was that she had completely cut her off emotionally. The redhead seemed intent upon acting as if absolutely nothing was amiss. As if Delia was simply a casual acquaintance with whom Patsy occasionally did business. She was flippant and cold and false and carried herself with an air of impassive detachment. Delia had seen that look before, when Patsy would get overwhelmed or exhausted when working with the refugees and would simply shut down her emotions, hiding behind a façade of dispassionate professionalism. 

It was absolutely gut wrenching for Delia, to be treated that way. She felt like she was being slapped in the face every time she dropped off a supply list and was treated with unfeeling politeness. Most of the time, Patsy wouldn’t even look at her, but when she did, Delia thought she could see confusion and uncertainty and sadness in her eyes before any and all emotions were quickly and expertly covered by a veil of neutrality. The first two times, Delia had pleaded with Patsy to talk to her, but to no avail. 

After the second time, hurt, frustrated, and completely confounded Delia had gone to Trixie for advice. She simply couldn’t understand how someone who was so good at comforting her, at making her feel warm and safe and listened to, could shut her out so completely. Trixie had chuckled slightly when Delia had asked just that, replying, ‘If she thinks the problem is _your_ emotions, then Patsy’s quite capable. But if the root of the problem is _her_ emotions… Well, let’s just say that if you find a successful strategy, let me know.’ 

Delia had briefly considered going and talking to Julienne before deciding that was entirely untenable. The camp director and counsellor may have been the only person Delia _knew_ had gotten Patsy to open up about her emotions, but they were still sort of on a mission, and showing up at Julienne’s office with a story about how she had screwed up by making Patsy fight her seemed profoundly unprofessional. 

So Delia had decided to just give Patsy some space, play along that nothing was wrong, hoping that time would heal the damage enough to allow Delia to re-open conversation. But it had been five days and Patsy’s hadn’t thawed in the slightest. If anything, she had gotten colder. Delia knew she had to be patient, but that particular virtue had never come easily in even the best of situations. And she missed Patsy so terribly. She just couldn’t believe how horrendously she’d screwed things up. She tried to be forgiving with herself, but no matter how she tried to think around it, it was clear that she had hurt Patsy deeply, and it was tearing her apart inside. 

‘Are we going to be sharing this delicious bread with others, or are we to keep the _fruits_ of your labour for ourselves? One needs to know how much to ration.’ 

Delia was a bit shocked to have her self-flagellating silence disturbed so suddenly, but she recovered quickly and gave Monica Joan a bit of a forlorn smile, ‘Help yourself. This was more of a test bake, really, so I wasn’t planning on dividing it up amongst everyone.’ 

Monica Joan grabbed eagerly for another piece, but paused before bringing it to her mouth, eyeing Delia pensively, ‘Is there really no one you wish to share it with?’ 

‘Not right now, no.’ Delia shook her head a bit dejectedly. 

Monica Joan stared at her a bit unnervingly for several drawn-out moments before softly but clearly reciting, _‘Now I knew I lost her – Not that she was gone – But Remoteness travelled On her Face and Tongue.’_

Delia’s eyes shot up to meet the old woman’s, and she was unable to hide her shock. Monica Joan’s eyes twinkled with self-congratulation, but also with a kind of warmth. 

‘I have found that even the most stubborn mule cannot resist the carrot of a heartfelt apology.’ 

Shaking her head to clear the lingering surprise at Monica Joan’s unexpectedly keen observations and intelligible advice, Delia didn’t quite know how to respond. 

‘I think that perhaps she needs a little more time. A little more space. But don’t worry, I won’t wait forever.’ 

The cook’s brow furrowed, _‘Forever – is composed of Nows – ‘Tis not a different time.’_

Delia was oddly reassured by the return of Monica Joan’s usual, more cryptic form of communication, ‘Noted, but still, she’s very upset. I really was unforgivably pushy. I think that, at least for the next few _Nows_ , she just needs some time alone.’ 

Monica Joan nodded meaningfully, _‘The Soul has Bandaged moments – When too appalled to stir – She feels some ghastly Fright come up And stop to look at her.’_

Delia chuckled a bit at that, ‘I assure you, my soul isn’t frightened, Monica Joan, just a little sad.’ When the cook simply stared at her with a look that was a mix of confusion and expectation, Delia added softly, ‘I didn’t receive the formal education Patsy did, you know. You can quote as many poems as you want, I’ll never know who it is.’ 

The old woman took a deep breath and gestured towards the oven, ‘I am inspired by baking to channel Emily Dickinson, who also knew something of the sadness of lost friends. But one must not know the poet to hear the message. The world is off kilter because too often man, when searching for the causes of his troubles, looks without rather than within. But there are times when, in seeking answers to our most beseeching queries, the best of us forget that the true cause may lie without after all.’

And with that she placed the slice of bread she was holding in her mouth, picked up one more with each hand, and made her way into the kitchen tent, undoubtedly to look for a place to stash her spoils. 

Delia watched Monica Joan leave, shaking her head with bemusement. She began looking for someplace to store what remained of the cake, eventually finding a mostly-empty bag of ration biscuits. She opened a full packet and poured in the few remaining old biscuits, using the now-empty bag for her bread. She felt a slight pang of guilt for prematurely opening the new packet, knowing that it would perturb Patsy. But, she reasoned, she _did_ need the bag, and if Patsy got irritated with her, well, that would at least count as expressing an emotion. 

She immediately stopped herself. No, she wasn’t going to allow herself to get bitter or resentful. She knew that she needed to get out of her cycle of self-berating introspection and _do_ something, but since she’d decided to give Patsy some space, she wasn’t sure what she could do. Or rather, she didn’t _want_ to do the one thing she knew she should. 

Her memory flicked back to Patsy’s look of fear five days ago, and then to her terror at the dance a month before. There was just _something_ that didn’t make sense. Delia still couldn’t shake the pervasive feeling that they were missing some key piece of information. Something about Patsy’s past that could radically affect Plan B. 

After the dance, she had been loath to bring it up, but now there had been another incident, and Delia realized that she could no longer avoid it. She needed to voice her doubts, her concerns, her plan. As much as questioning mission strategy made her nervous, Delia knew that the time had come for a frank conversation with Phyllis.


	13. Delia Part 2

Delia stood outside of the medical tent nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She knew this conversation was long overdue, but that didn’t make it any easier. Talking to Phyllis could be intimidating at the best of times, let alone when there were feelings involved. 

She shook her head. Why was she so worried? When she’d been basically forced into talking with Phyllis about her guilt surrounding the rescue at the compound, it had gone better than she could have imagined. Her team leader had been kind and understanding and assured Delia it wasn’t her fault. Phyllis had told Delia that she was an excellent, dependable operative. Said she had never let her down. It had made her feel so tremendously proud, to know Phyllis thought so highly of her. 

But she couldn’t help wondering if expressing how she felt about Patsy _would_ be letting Phyllis down. They’d come here on a mission, to do a job, and Delia had developed feelings that complicated that significantly. That was bound to be a disappointment. 

She knew, however, that it had reached the point where not being up front about it with Phyllis was verging on outright deception, and that just didn’t sit right. Though she was ninety-nine per cent sure the older spy was already aware. She had mulled over Phyllis’ cryptic warning to ‘Just be careful. These things can get out of control quickly and people can get hurt’ ever since the snippet of advice had been dispensed three weeks ago. She had been shocked when Phyllis had clarified, ‘I wasn’t talking about the mission, I was talking about your heart’ before jetting out of the tent. It had just been so…odd. It had sounded like Phyllis was giving her tacit permission to pursue Patsy, which ran counter to everything Delia would have expected. But then again, the final stage of Plan B _hadn’t_ been approved, and Phyllis _had_ said she cared about Delia’s happiness. 

Regardless of Phyllis’ potential consent, it was undeniable that things _had_ gotten out of control and both of them _had_ gotten hurt. As much as it hurt Delia’s pride to admit that to Phyllis, Patsy’s reactions could have a profound impact on Plan B were it ever approved and, as the team leader, Phyllis had a right to know. 

Also, Delia had some plans of her own that she wanted to propose. Previous attempts to question Phyllis’ strategic approaches had yielded mixed results over the years, and Delia feared that her emotional involvement would render her opinions easy to dismiss. However, she strongly felt that she was correct in this case, and she didn’t want to silence her instincts simply because she feared a negative reaction.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she stepped purposefully into the tent. 

Phyllis was standing with Dr Noakes on the far side of the room. They were huddled over several sheets of paper laid out on a bed, thoroughly engrossed in conversation. Delia approached them, standing entirely unnoticed for a few moments, listening as her team leader described the preliminary assessment and triage systems she’d used at the hospital she’d worked at before the Reckoning. Dr Noakes looked a little overwhelmed, but generally appeared to be listening patiently and intently. Finally, realizing she needed to take action if she wanted to be noticed, Delia cleared her throat.

Dr Noakes’ eyes shot up, looking startled, ‘Goodness! Delia! You gave me quite the fright, sneaking up like that.’ She burst into a broad smile, ‘Though I suppose that’s what you spies do…sneak around and all that? Well, very well done then. Consider me successfully snuck up on. A marks all around!’ She chuckled to herself. 

Despite her nervousness, Delia couldn’t help but smile. Dr Noakes always managed to be entirely disarming. 

‘Thank you, I think, though I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry to disturb your conversation.’ 

Phyllis did, indeed, look a little perturbed, but Dr Noakes shook her head and waved a hand at Delia dismissively, ‘It’s not a problem at all. Nurse Crane here was just telling me about how she ran her A&E clinic in her youth, and I must say, many of her ideas sound wonderfully efficient. I’m extremely excited to look over this and consider what we can implement here with the resources we have.’ She picked up the papers and turned to Phyllis, ‘Do you mind if I take these? To look over them this evening?’ 

Phyllis looked unreservedly pleased, ‘Of course. I think you’ll find I’ve already adapted many of my former policies for this unique setting. I’m eager to hear your thoughts.’ 

Delia felt herself relax slightly. Phyllis, apparently having finally found _someone_ to listen to her ideas for ways to improve camp efficiency, was in a particularly good mood. That made the impending conversation ever so slightly less scary. She realized the time was as right as it was ever going to be. 

‘Phyllis, could I possibly speak to you for a moment?’ She glanced over at Dr Noakes, who was smiling happily at her, ‘Ummm…in private?’

Dr Noakes sprung into action, ‘Oh, yes, of course, I’ll give you ladies some privacy.’

‘Oh, Dr Noakes, I didn’t mean you had to leave! Phyllis and I can go somewhere –‘ 

Dr Noakes cut her off, ‘First of all, please, call me Chummy. There’s no need for formality with me. Second, it’s completely fine. I can think of no better place you could go for a private conversation, and I’ve heard a rumour there’s some freshly baked bread in the kitchen tent that I want to get to before Monica Joan eats every last bite.’ 

Delia’s eyebrows shot up, ‘Well, news certainly travels quickly in these parts. As a thank you, I’ll tell _you_ that what’s left of the bread is in an old ration biscuit bag stashed amongst the frying pans. Help yourself to the rest of it. I’m sure there’ll be more baked goods to come now that Monica Joan has access to an oven.’ 

Chummy smiled, wished them a good evening, and bustled out in the direction of the kitchen tent. 

Delia turned back to Phyllis, who was eyeing her with curiosity, ‘An oven, hmmm? Is that how you’ve been occupying yourself? I’ve barely seen you for weeks now.’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘Among other things. Anyway, you’ve been spending most of your time here, so I suppose I could say the same to you.’ 

‘That’s fair.’ Phyllis chuckled and gave a brief nod as she began meticulously flattening out the sheet the papers had been spread on, ‘I _have_ very much enjoyed getting to use my nursing skills again. I think all it took was seeing me in action for Dr Noakes to be open to some of my ideas for making things even better. And the nurses here certainly don’t seem to mind me covering their shifts.’ She paused, considering, ‘Well, except for Evangelina, though I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to build _that_ particular bridge.’ She turned towards the supply table and began sorting instruments they’d used that day back into their correct receptacles, ‘Speaking of covering shifts, how did your little surprise for Nurse Mount end up going? I trust it accomplished whatever you had in mind?’ 

Delia sighed inwardly as she watched the older spy work. Phyllis was babbling, which usually meant she was feeling chipper, but there was a slight tension to her bearing that Delia had worked with her for too long to not pick up on. The overly airy tone she used for those last two questions confirmed Delia’s suspicions. Phyllis knew Delia had come to talk to her about Patsy, and, worryingly, her team leader was _nervous_. Delia couldn’t quite imagine why, but figured she might as well bite the bullet, even if it was likely to end with Phyllis being irritated with her. 

‘Actually, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. There was…an incident…during the surprise.’ 

Phyllis didn’t stop her sorting, ‘Oh really, an incident? What kind of incident?’ 

‘An incident like at the dance. Look Phyllis, I know we’ve been studiously avoiding bringing it up with each other, but I think it’s time we talk about Patsy and about Plan B.’ 

Phyllis closed her eyes and stilled for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Delia. ‘Alright, we can talk. Let’s start with specifics. What exactly happened? You said it was like at the dance?’

‘Well, sort of like at the dance. There she was just terrified. This time she was scared at the end but during it she was…I don’t know how to describe it…vacant? We were sparring, hand-to-hand combat, and I got a little overzealous and she just…changed. She got incredibly fast. Incredibly strong. She didn’t really seem to be in control. To be _there_. And when she, I don’t know, came to, I suppose, she was just so…scared. She just ran out of the tent.’

‘Did you follow her?’ Phyllis’ tone was surprisingly soft. 

‘I tried to, but I couldn’t find her. I checked everywhere. I still have no idea where she was hiding. I didn’t know you _could_ find places to disappear to in this blasted camp.’ 

Phyllis smiled slightly, ‘And how has she been since?’

Delia sighed, ‘Aloof. Cold. Detached. Though I can’t say I really blame her. She must be livid with me.’ 

‘Well, it sounds like you need to talk to her, then.’ Phyllis made it sound so simple and matter-of-fact. 

'That’s easier said than done, I’m afraid.’ Delia was aware she sounded a bit forlorn, ‘She won’t talk to me currently. I’m giving it time.’ She took a deep breath, pressing onward, ‘But that’s not why I’m bringing it to your attention now. Now I want to talk about Plan B more broadly.’ Her intonation made the last statement more of a question, and she gave Phyllis a hard, searching look. The older spy returned her gaze and nodded. Delia gave a brief nod back and continued. 

‘When HQ formulated Plan B, they were operating under a certain set of assumptions. I think it’s clear now that those assumptions were false, or at least incomplete. There’s just _something_ we’re missing, Phyllis. Something big. These two incidents, the way she talks about her mother, her skills with weaponry. It doesn’t add up. And I know you must sense it too.’ 

Phyllis’ brow furrowed, ‘Yes, I have sensed it and I agree. But what do you mean the way she talks about her mother? Has she said something to you?’ 

Delia was a bit surprised by her internal reaction to the question. She trusted Phyllis, but found that she was wary to divulge all that Patsy had told her the night of the dance. It felt private. Special. Like it was _theirs_. She decided to just disclose her conclusions rather than what Patsy had actually said. 

‘She just talks about her like she’s not around anymore. Like she died. And she mentioned her passion for the cause, but in a way that made it sound like it was _our_ cause. It just doesn’t make sense. But I think I know how to find out what it is. How to make sure Plan B will work.’ 

Phyllis looked intrigued, ‘I’m listening.’ 

Delia decided to just jump in head first, ‘I think we need to ask her directly. And in order to do that, we need to be honest about why we came here. We need to tell her about Plan B.’ 

Phyllis let out a long sigh, sounding impatient, ‘Delia –‘

‘Wait, hear me out. Plan B isn’t something we’re just going to be able to spring on her. She’s going to need time to consider. She won’t react well if she’s rushed. We don’t know what we don’t know, and I think we need to tell her now, to give us time to problem solve all together.’ 

Phyllis shook her head slightly, ‘To me, it sounds like all the more reason to wait. If Plan B stays on hold, there will have been no reason to cause undue strife. And it gives us more time to deduce what’s going on, in case Plan B ever _is_ approved.’ 

Delia had expected this response, and wasn’t going to give up that easily, ‘I think the opposite is actually true. Everything we’re seeing points to a history of pain and possibly betrayal. But also of dedication and willingness to work through it and help people. I think she can handle hearing what we have to say, and I think she’ll be much more receptive if she knows we’ve been upfront about it. I actually think we’ve waited too long, but sooner is better.’ 

Cocking her head to the side, Phyllis squinted slightly, ‘We’ve already been here for two months. Surely it won’t make that much of a difference if we wait a few more weeks. If you trust that she’ll be open to helping the cause, it seems advisable to collect as much information as possible first, so we can ask in the least hurtful way. We don’t want to scare her off. She’s too valuable.’ 

A rush of defensiveness surged through her that she strove to keep out of her voice, ‘I don’t think we should be approaching her like some cagey asset that needs to be worked around and outwitted. This is a unique situation. We should be upfront. Work _with_ her; come up with a plan. On this mission, she could be part of the team.’ 

When Phyllis immediately furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, Delia knew that last statement had been a mistake, ‘But she’s _not_ part of the team, Delia. She has no training or experience.’ Phyllis paused for a moment, as if considering what she should say next. She took a deep breath and somewhat knowingly asked, ‘Are you sure it’s not that you just want her to be involved for more _personal_ reasons?’

Delia’s tone did not hide her anger, ‘I wish you wouldn’t question my dedication to the cause.’

Phyllis was apologetic, ‘I don’t mean to question your dedication. I know you care deeply about stopping this new Reaper virus. But I also think that you care deeply about her. And I know it can’t be easy to feel like you’re deceiving her.’ 

Delia sighed, somewhat relieved that Phyllis had been the one to broach the subject of her feelings for Patsy, ‘Yes, it’s true, I _do_ care deeply about her, and I want to do the right thing for her, for her wellbeing. But I _also_ want to do the right thing for the mission. And in this case, I honestly believe that those are one and the same. Telling her is what’s best for _everyone_.’ 

‘Alright, Delia. Tell me honestly, knowing how she’s reacted to these two incidents, how she’s been treating you these last few days. If we told her about Plan B now…all of it, what we need her to do, who we need her to face…can you really say that she’s going to react the way we need her to? That she’d just need some time? That she’d work with us? That she wouldn’t run away? Right now, she won’t even talk to you.’ 

Looking down at the ground, Delia knew she sounded a bit petulant, ‘Well, I can’t _guarantee_ anything, but this is just _different_. She’d listen, if we were honest. I don’t know how I know that, but I just do.’ 

Phyllis smiled a bit sadly, ‘I know that’s what you _want_ to believe. I understand your desire to be honest. Believe it or not, I know what it’s like to fall in love with someone.’ 

Delia’s eyes shot up in surprise. She hadn’t really thought about it using those words, but, of course, that’s exactly what had happened, wasn’t it? She had fallen in love. Her stomach clenched as she realized just how far outside of the realm of acceptable professional behaviour this was. She looked uncertainly into Phyllis’ eyes, expecting to see rebuke, or at minimum disapproval. She was surprised to see only soft warmth, perhaps tinged with a bit of sadness. 

Her team leader spoke softly, ‘It’s alright. You needn’t be scared. I know it’s all probably confusing and overwhelming and but also wonderful. And I know you’re genuinely trying to do what’s best. For everyone. You don’t have to be ashamed or hide your feelings from me.’ 

‘You’re not disappointed in me?’ Delia could barely hide her shock. 

‘Well, I have to admit it _has_ complicated things, particularly if Plan B is approved,’ Phyllis chuckled, ‘But it’s not as if you _chose_ to fall in love. These things just happen.’ Her tone shifted slightly, getting a bit more serious, ‘But I think we need to consider that your feelings may be affecting your judgement.’ 

Tension crept back into Delia’s body. This is exactly what she’d been worried about. She knew she sounded more defiant than she wanted to, ‘My judgement isn’t being clouded.’ 

‘Delia, you engaged in hand-to-hand combat even with your awareness of her suspicious aptitude for weaponry, despite the fact that there are undoubtedly less… _violent_ ways to initiate physical contact. That doesn’t speak well for the current level of control your judgement has over your impulses.’ 

She felt her face turning slightly red with shame, ‘I’ll admit that wasn’t my finest moment…but this is different. This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and I really think talking to her is the best course of action.’ 

‘Well, _that_ , at least is something that we can agree on.’ 

Delia was completely taken aback, ‘Wait, what? Really? I can talk to her about Plan B?’ 

Phyllis shook her head slightly, ‘Even if we _are_ going to tell her about Plan B, when she’s angry and barely speaking to you hardly seems like the best time. No, you need to talk to her for _you_ , for both of you, not for the mission. Apologize, comfort her. She obviously needs you and it’s equally clear the current state of affairs isn’t healthy for you.’ 

Feeling a little deflated, Delia shrugged, ‘I’ve tried. She just pretends nothing is wrong and refuses to talk to me. I’m giving her a little time and space.’ 

‘Well, I disagree. It’s best not to let these things fester. Neither of you are going to feel any better until you talk about it. If she’s cutting you out, try telling her you want to apologize. She won’t _talk_ to you, but maybe she’ll _listen_.’ 

Delia looked at the ground, feeling a little uncertain. Talking to Patsy only to be rejected again wasn’t something she was sure she felt up for. Sensing her hesitancy, Phyllis continued. 

‘The incendiary project supplies arrived today, so you won’t be working with her for a good while. You need to try now, before too much time goes by. The longer you let it go, the more awkward it will be when you try to bring it up. Trust me on this, Delia. I may be an old maid now, but I have more experience with these kinds of things than you would think.’ 

Glancing up, Delia saw that Phyllis was looking at her warmly. She supposed it was worth taking Phyllis’ advice, after all, Delia certainly didn’t have any experience. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, just asking Patsy to listen. 

‘I suppose I could try again.’ Delia mumbled. 

Phyllis smiled triumphantly, ‘Excellent. I really think you’ll both feel much better after a good heart-to-heart.’ She paused, getting serious again, ‘But Delia, please wait for my permission before revealing anything about Plan B to her. I know you don’t like it when I pull rank, but I ask that you humour me this time.’ 

Delia was aware she sounded a bit testy, ‘I don’t like lying to her, Phyllis.’ 

‘You’re not _lying_. Nothing you’ve said or plan to say is a lie. You’re just not telling the whole truth.’ 

Delia furrowed her brow, deeply sceptical, ‘I’m not sure she’s going to be impressed with that distinction. I know I’m not.’ 

‘Delia, you’re proposing a fundamental shift in strategy. As you said, you’ve been putting a lot of thought into this. I need some time to consider.’ 

Delia sighed deeply, ‘Alright, I’ll wait…but Phyllis, if she asks why we came here, I’m not going to lie to her.’ 

Phyllis gave her a hard look for a moment before nodding sharply, ‘If she asks, I wouldn’t expect you to.’ Turning back to the table, she sorted the few remaining items before making a satisfied noise, ‘Now, if we’re finished here, I’m going to take a little rest before dinner. My leg is still getting used to walking, and I don’t want to overdo it.’ 

‘Yes, I think we’re done. Thanks for listening. And for the advice.’ She shot the older spy a small smile, ‘After you’re done _considering_ , I look forward to you reaching the conclusion that I’m correct.’ 

Phyllis chuckled, shaking her head in amusement, ‘We’ll see.’ She took a few steps towards the exit before turning back, ‘And Delia, good luck.’ 

Delia watched Phyllis leave before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Though the conversation had gone better than she had expected, she couldn’t help feeling a bit frustrated. She wished Phyllis would trust her. Would realize that her emotional involvement was an asset in understanding Patsy rather than a liability.

She thought about Patsy and groaned. She knew Phyllis was probably right, but the thought of approaching the redhead again was a little daunting. It hurt so much when Patsy dismissed her. But she knew deep down that if she waited for Patsy to approach her, she would probably be waiting forever. 

It didn’t have to happen tonight, however. She had already had one fiendishly stressful conversation today, and she felt utterly exhausted. No, she would have dinner, get a good night’s sleep, and then find Patsy first thing in the morning.

 

____________________________

 

As it turned out, Delia and Barbara had to spend the entire morning accounting for and cataloguing the mass of newly arrived parts for the incendiary project, a task whose mind-numbing tediousness gave her brain plenty of opportunity to perseverate about Patsy. By the time she had finished her late lunch, she was almost eager to have the conversation just so that she could stop _worrying_ about it. 

She made an excuse to leave the dining tent as soon as she was finished, and went off in search of Patsy. She eventually found the redhead in the medical stock room, cleaning instruments in preparation for the next batch of refugees. Patsy looked up as the brunette entered, and while she smiled, there was a detachment in her eyes that made Delia’s heart ache. 

When Patsy spoke, her voice was full of false cheer, ‘Oh hello, Delia. I trust that all of the supplies for the incendiary project arrived as requested. Was there something missing?’

Patsy was still acting as if nothing was amiss. As if Delia would have absolutely nothing to talk to her about. As if Delia didn’t mean anything to her. Hadn’t ever meant anything. Delia felt a little ill. She _hated_ that Patsy felt the need to do this. To push her away. To close herself off. To pretend. 

She kept her voice even, calm, ‘No, the order was complete.’ 

Patsy gave a small, satisfied nod and went back to her work. Delia stood there silently, waiting. Being studiously ignored. 

Finally, she simply said, ‘Patsy’, the word filled with pain and guilt and longing –more plea than statement. 

Patsy closed her eyes and stilled for a moment. Then she took a deep breath, glanced up, and with an infuriatingly efficient tone, asked, ‘I’m sorry, was there something you needed?’ 

Hurt and disbelief and guilt and anger all rushed over Delia at once. To be hated, to be yelled at, these she could handle. But to be _dismissed_? To be treated as if she didn’t matter? It was unbearable. 

She briefly considered just leaving, but then decided no. Patsy was worth more than that. She was worth fighting for. 

‘ _Please_ Pats. You were the one who said we don’t need to pretend nothing has happened. Look, I understand if you’re angry. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but _please_ , can you at least listen? Can you at least allow me to apologise?’ 

Patsy’s eyes shot up, filled with confusion and uncertainty, ‘Apologise? Whatever do you need to apologise for?’ 

Delia was a bit taken aback by the question, but she was overwhelmed by excitement that Patsy had acknowledged her, and she wasn’t going to lose this opportunity to be heard. She blurted out her reasons in a rush. ‘For losing my temper. For pushing you into hand-to-hand combat when you obviously weren’t comfortable. For kicking you so forcefully in the knee. For hurting you. For taking something that was supposed to be a surprise for you and making it all about me, and what _I_ wanted. For not knowing how to help repair the damage I’ve done. For…for…’ Her pace slowed as Patsy’s words truly sunk in, and she eventually came to a halt. Had Patsy asked why Delia would need to apologise?

Delia’s voice now betrayed her obvious confusion, ‘Wait, you’re not cutting me out because you’re angry with me? Then wh-‘ Delia stopped as a wave of realization rushed over her. She had been making it about herself. Again. She had just assumed Patsy must have been mad at her. At her selfish behaviour. It had never dawned on her that Patsy could blame herself. But what on earth could Patsy possibly think she had done wrong? 

‘Patsy, what’s going on? Talk to me.’ Delia spoke softly, moving closer to where Patsy was standing.

The redhead was now staring down at the antiseptic rinse on the table before her, her brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes betraying her deep discomfort and uncertainty. She wasn’t saying anything, but she also wasn’t leaving. Or asking Delia to leave. 

They stood there for several moments in silence, Patsy’s body stiff with tension. Delia remembered Trixie’s words: Patsy wouldn’t talk if _her_ emotions were the problem. She wracked her brain to think of a way to get Patsy to open up. 

She took a deep breath, and spoke a bit hesitantly, ‘Alright, Pats. Maybe we can try this. I’m going to say what I think you felt six days ago. If I’m on the right track, you can nod. If I’m wrong, shake your head. You don’t have to _say_ anything. If it ever gets to be too much, just clench your fist and I’ll stop. Are you willing to give that a try?’ 

Patsy glanced quickly over at Delia, looking a mixture of wary, sceptical and just the slightest bit relieved. She looked back down at the table and nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Delia smiled softly and moved so that she was standing next to Patsy, facing her. She was trying to be close enough to lend support but hopefully not so close that Patsy would feel trapped. The redhead stayed with her front pressed against the table, standing awkwardly still. 

‘Alright, let’s start with an easy one. You were completely surprised by the fencing and you very much enjoyed it.’ 

Patsy didn’t look up, but she gave a small nod. 

‘Good. You fenced left handed because you wanted me to feel good about all of the work I had put in.’ 

This time the nod was more forceful, though Patsy’s eyes were still fixed stubbornly on the pan on the table in front of her. Her body was rigid, her discomfort almost palpable. Delia decided to take a risk and try to lighten things up a bit.

With a softly joking tone, she continued, ‘My athleticism and natural raw talent were the most impressive and awe-inspiring you’ve ever seen.’

Her heart leapt when she saw the slight upward curve of Patsy’s lips and watched her shoulders loosen ever so slightly. The redhead’s face was also turning a light shade of pink, and Delia decided that, the comment having achieved its goal, she could save Patsy from having to respond. 

‘You don’t have to answer that.’

The redhead shot her a bit of a shy, appreciative glance. Delia decided to see if Patsy would be honest when faced with a slightly harder question. 

‘When I said I was working on something for Monica Joan, you thought I was creating surprises for _everyone_ and you were sad because you thought it made your fencing surprise less special.’ 

Patsy’s eyebrows shot up and she turned to look directly at Delia, seeming a little shocked. She considered the Welshwoman carefully for a few moments before slowly nodding her head, never taking her eyes off Delia’s. 

Delia strove to exude an outer sense of calm as her heart raced wildly. It was working. She may not have said anything, but Patsy was opening up, looking at her, sharing with her. Delia fought the urge to spew out a host of questions and assurances. She needed to stay calm and approach this carefully. Patsy could close off again at any moment. Despite this, she felt she couldn’t let that confirmation go unaddressed. 

‘I hope you realized how unfounded that concern was. Of _course_ the fencing was special, Pats. It was me trying to show you how special you are to me.’ 

Patsy looked down at the table and shifted a bit awkwardly as she gave a small nod. 

Delia continued gently, ‘We’re going to talk about the hand-to-hand combat now.’ She paused for a moment and looked at both of Patsy’s hands, which were resting on the table. When neither of them moved, she pressed on, ‘You agreed to hand-to-hand combat because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Because I was feeling guilty about my earlier tantrum.’ 

Patsy nodded. 

‘But it actually wasn’t me that had you worried about hand-to-hand. There was something else.’ 

Her eyes remained firmly fixed on the table in front of her as she nodded again. 

‘Something that made you feel the need to hold back at the beginning.’ 

Another nod, less certain this time. Delia noticed Patsy’s hand twitch slightly. 

‘And then I kicked you and that _something_ happened.’ 

Patsy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her fingers curled up slightly, but stopped before making a fist. Eventually she nodded. 

‘And when you’ve been pushing me away these last few days, it isn’t because you’re mad at me. Is it because you’re worried I’m mad at you?’

Patsy shook her head fairly adamantly. 

‘Alright, good. Because I’m not. Is it because you’re worried I’m scared of you?’ 

Patsy shook her head again, a little less strongly this time. 

‘Pats, I really appreciate you being so willing to try this with me. Thank you for being patient, and for being honest, but at this point I could be guessing forever. I’m not in any way angry or scared. Maybe a little worried, but that’s mainly because you cut me out so completely. But I _want_ to be here for you, Pats. You don’t have to carry this alone.’

Still looking down, Patsy pursed her lips and shifted uncomfortably before opening her mouth and speaking, her tone genuine and warm and _real_ , ‘Maybe I want to go a bit longer before you realize I have flaws.’ 

Relief washed over Delia like a wave. Patsy was talking to her. ‘Your emotions aren’t flaws, Pats. They’re what make you _you_. And I like you.’ 

‘That’s just because I’m not a burden to you yet.’ 

Delia couldn’t help the slight tone of incredulity from creeping into her voice, ‘Patsy, that’s ridiculous. Was me telling you about my nightmares a burden?’ The redhead shook her head. ‘How did it make you feel? When I told you?’ 

‘It made me feel important. Special.’ 

‘Exactly.’ 

Patsy suddenly looked up at Delia, her voice tinged with desperation, ‘But don’t you see. You _are_ special. That’s the problem…I just…’ She looked down at the table again. 

Delia leaned in, speaking softly, ‘You just what, Pats?’ 

Patsy spoke so quietly it was barely audible, ‘I need to protect you.’ 

‘Protect me? From what?’ Delia was a bit taken aback. This wasn’t where she had expected this conversation to go. 

Patsy’s voice cracked, ‘From _me_.’ 

Delia was completely taken by surprise. ‘I don’t need to be protected from you.’ 

‘You don’t know that. You don’t really know.’ Patsy sounded broken and desperate.

Taking a deep breath, Delia curbed her impulse to leap in and assure Patsy that the idea she would need protection from her was ludicrous. She moved in slightly closer to the redhead, ‘Even if that’s true, Pats, I don’t _want_ to be protected from you.’ She leaned forward and twisted her body slightly so she could look into Patsy’s eyes, ‘Would you ever purposefully do anything to hurt me?’ 

‘No!’ Patsy was adamant. 

‘Alright then, we can work through it. Talk to me. Tell me the things that trigger you. Tell me what to avoid.’ She lay a gentle hand on Patsy’s arm, ‘We can protect me together.’ 

Patsy looked away slightly and swallowed audibly. Her tension and discomfort had returned, and she remained determinedly silent. 

Delia kept her voice soft, ‘Pats, I need your help with this one. I’d walk you through it, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin guessing.’ 

‘I feel so ashamed’ Patsy’s voice cracked again.

‘Pats, you have nothing to be ashamed of.’ 

‘You don’t understand.’ Patsy sounded oddly determined and almost…a little angry. Delia was perplexed. 

‘No, but I _want_ to understand. I want to be here for you. I don’t know what you’re scared of, but I’m not going to judge or condemn or fear you. You can share with me.’ 

Patsy looked into her eyes and Delia could see the war that was raging there between the part of her that wanted so desperately to open herself up and the part that was obviously terrified. Of what, Delia couldn’t even begin to guess. Patsy’s face contorted into a look of sorrow, and Delia’s heart clenched as she realized that the redhead’s fear had won out. 

Patsy croaked out, ‘I’m sorry, but I…I just…can’t’ before turning and walking out of the tent. 

Delia felt tears of sadness and frustration well up in her eyes. For a second time, Patsy had walked out on her, and Delia felt that her heart might break.


	14. Winifred

Winifred stared down at the mass of wires and circuit boards that made up the inside of the ultrasound machine. While she knew that other people might be intimidated by the chaos before her, for Winifred it brought a certain kind of calm. She didn’t know quite how to explain it, but fixing electronics had always just _made sense_. Though she’d never received any kind of formal training, she found she had the ability to block out everything else and just follow the wires and pathways until everything just kind of…clicked into place. And it felt so energizing, fixing things. Taking something broken and making it whole again. 

Since arriving at Camp Poplar, she had found that she equally enjoyed repairing people’s bodies. She had relished her time assisting Phyllis with her duties in the medical tent. Winifred had known that the older woman had been a nurse before the Reckoning, but she hadn’t known that Phyllis remembered so much, and she certainly hadn’t expected her to be such a patient, if slightly brusque, teacher. 

During the weeks of being Phyllis’ hands and legs – fetching supplies, cleaning out wounds, applying bandages and braces – Winifred had found that she felt unexpectedly comfortable in the role of nurse. It was so much quieter and less dangerous and more unquestionably _good_ than spying. 

And, to be quite frank, Winifred simply didn’t enjoy being a spy. Not anymore. She liked being here, at camp, where there were systems to fix and people to help without the constant stress of missions. She had been so pleased when their stay had been extended. She chuckled; her younger self would be so disappointed in her. 

When she was little, she had devoured every fantasy novel she could get her hands on and always wanted to go on adventures. She would sit and watch movies and imagine herself as the swashbuckling heroine. It seemed so vastly preferable to her boring and utterly constrained life at home, where all there was to do was cleaning and cooking and taking care of the animals. But then she had actually joined a spy team and, as it turned out, adventure was a whole lot scarier in real life than in her imagination. And much more morally fraught than she could ever have expected.

Why couldn’t real life be more like the movies? The simplicity of heroines overcoming obstacles on their way to an inevitable, uncomplicated victory. Sadly, despite her best intentions, every step of her life had managed to be profoundly complicated. 

She shook her head. There was no reason to perseverate about the parts of the past she couldn’t do anything about. She focused on the broken machine in front of her. Now _this_ was something she _could_ do something about. She stared at the jumble of wires, her eyes flitting from circuit to circuit until she saw the problem. A wire had come loose. She smiled to herself as she reached for her soldering iron. 

She had just completed the solder and was inspecting her work when she heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, she was surprised to see Patsy standing at the entrance to the tent. 

‘Oh, Patsy, hello! Are you looking for Delia? She and I actually moved the rest of our things over to the incendiary project tent a while ago. I’m only holed up in here because it’s a quieter place to work. And because Phyllis requisitioned this table for…well, I’m not really sure, actually, but it’s a very handy place to fiddle with the broken machines. The medical tent can be a bit overwhelming.’

Patsy’s eyes darted quickly around the tent, ‘I was actually looking for you, are you alone?’

Winifred felt her face burst into a broad grin. She really liked Patsy. She had spent the last several months watching her in the medical tent and had reached the conclusion that the redhead was a kind, hardworking, _good_ person. That she had turned out that way in spite of her family was, to Winifred’s thinking, fairly inspirational. However, normally Patsy was a bit aloof and Winifred was always a bit nervous around her, often feeling profoundly uncool. But now Patsy had come to look for _her_. This was very exciting. 

She babbled enthusiastically, ‘Oh yes, quite alone. I think Barbara and Delia were inventorying the incendiary project supplies, and I’m not sure where Phyllis is, probably the medical tent.’ She looked down at the machine in front of her and saw an opportunity to connect and show off her newfound nursing knowledge, ‘Actually, I was just fixing the portable ultrasound machine. I know you’ve been without it for a while, and hopefully it will help put our minds at ease when we see abdominal trauma.’ 

She glanced up hopefully, and was a bit disappointed to find that Patsy didn’t really seem to be listening. Instead, the redhead looked…well…distracted. Her eyes kept flitting around, not settling on anything, and she shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. 

‘Yes, hopefully so.’ The redhead paused for a moment before hesitantly asking, ‘Delia said you’d been giving her fencing lessons. Where did you learn how to fence?’ 

Winifred’s face fell. She hated thinking back to that time. She hadn’t even wanted to teach Delia, but the brunette had just been so excited, and she had never been very good at saying no to her teammate. She wondered why on earth Patsy would be asking. She knew she was taking an awkwardly long time to respond, but she didn’t know exactly what to say. 

Suddenly, Patsy’s voice rang out, ‘ _With this sword, I swear this day to have left behind what led astray_.’ 

Winifred’s jaw dropped as she stared dumbfounded at the redhead. Without being fully consciously aware, she responded, ‘ _I pledge to my people and the land, to forever obey the Chancellor’s command_.’ 

Patsy gave Winifred a searching look, before declaring with certainty, ‘You were in an indoctrination camp.’

Winifred nodded and then responded, her disbelief evident in her voice, ‘So were you.’

Patsy nodded. 

Winifred’s mind reeled. How on earth could Patsy have been in a camp? With who her family was? With who _she_ was? It just didn’t make any sense. And how come no one had told her? Winifred was well aware that she was usually the last member of the team to be told important things, and normally she was completely fine with that. But this was different. Delia should have known to tell her about this.

Patsy’s words tumbled out nervously, ‘Does Delia know? That you were in a camp?’ 

That definitely wasn’t the question Winifred was expecting. 

‘What? Of course. I mean –’ 

Patsy cut her off, sounding a bit desperate ‘And how did she react? When she found out?’ 

Now Winifred was completely baffled. What did Patsy mean, when Delia found out? Hadn’t Delia told her? She and Patsy spent tons of time together. Maybe Delia had felt it was Winifred’s story to tell. But then what on earth did they talk about? 

‘I’m not sure what you mean. Delia was the one who _rescued_ me from the camp. And then helped me afterwards, with working through things. She taught me that there was nothing to be ashamed of. That it wasn’t my fault…what I was forced to do, what happened to my parents. Which is amazing, really, considering what happened to her parents.’ She realized she was rambling a bit, ‘Why? How did she react when you told her?’ 

Winifred was surprised to see that Patsy looked a little ill. That was strange. 

Patsy’s voice was barely above a whisper, ‘She rescued you?’ 

Winifred figured Patsy hadn’t heard her question. She _did_ seem a bit distracted. 

‘Yes, that’s what she _did_ , and then what _we_ did, before we met Phyllis, or at least for most of the time. We rescued people from camps. Delia had been doing it for two years before she found me. Normally, she got people on a path up to the Bloc, but I…well, I guess I just stayed with her. And then we did it together for a while. Until the mobile beacons. That’s why I’m shocked that she reacted poorly to learning about you. I’d give her another chance. I’m sure there was just some kind of misunderstanding.’ At this point, Patsy was looking utterly stricken but Winifred couldn’t help her curiosity, ‘How did you escape? Was there another group getting people out? We never did run into anyone else.’ 

‘No, no one got me out. I…I just left, I guess.’ 

Winifred hadn’t been sure it was possible for this conversation to get stranger, but it most definitely had. People couldn’t simply _leave_ indoctrination camps. Not with the intensive levels of security. For a moment she just stared up at Patsy, who was now gazing intently at the ground, looking quite frankly atrocious. 

‘You just…left?’ 

Patsy abruptly blurted out, ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go. I won’t tell anyone else, I promise’ before turning and almost running out of the tent. 

Winifred called out, ‘You can tell whoever you need to, Patsy, it’s nothing to be ashamed of’ but Patsy was already gone. 

She stared at the exit where Patsy had just fled, her brow furrowed. The redhead seemed so distraught, but surely Delia couldn’t have reacted _that_ poorly. No, that was something Winifred simply didn’t believe was possible. She’d seen Delia interact with dozens of people they’d plucked from the camps, and the brunette was astoundingly skilled at supporting them through their fear and guilt and distress. That she would have rejected Patsy was unfathomable. 

Beginning to piece the ultrasound machine carefully back together, Winifred smiled as she thought back to how good Delia had been with her. How patient and understanding. Most people they rescued, underneath their veil of shame and fear, had a glint of fiery righteousness. It was usually why they had been sent to the camps in the first place. They were eager to get to the Bloc so they could forge their own path. 

But Winifred wasn’t like that. When she had thought of a future in the Bloc, all she could imagine was a vast, terrifying emptiness. She wouldn’t have even known where to begin. But life with Delia, rescuing people from the clutches of the Redemptionists, _that_ seemed like just the level of adventure she was looking for. And so, she had put off answering questions about where she wanted to go, instead responding with queries of her own about how Delia determined who to target and how she devised escape plans and how she built her distraction devices. 

After several days, Delia had simply stopped asking. They never sat and had a formal conversation, but Delia had just seemed to _know_ that Winifred didn’t have anywhere else to go. One evening, the brunette appeared with a load of wood she’d salvaged from an abandoned house. She informed Winifred that she would have to do the dishes, and then proceeded to build another bed in the van so newly rescued folks would have a place to sleep. And from then on, they had always just kind of been together. Even though Winifred was a little older, Delia was like the big sister that Winifred had never had. 

It was through Delia that she discovered the extent of her affinity for electronics. Delia was constantly fiddling with things, opening them up to fix or adapt or enhance them. One day she had a broken radio taken apart and laid out on a small table. Winifred was sitting on her bed drawing when she heard Delia muttering in frustration. She wandered over, stared at the jumble of wires, and almost immediately figured out what was wrong. Delia was fairly astonished, and began asking about Winifred’s training. While they had done basic electrical work at the camp, it was nothing particularly fancy. It was just that Winifred looked at the wires and _understood_. After that, Delia would often re-appear from her supply runs with books on electronics or computers or wireless communication systems. Whatever Winifred asked for, Delia managed to find, and Winifred devoured the knowledge voraciously. It was so wonderful, to be able to stretch her mind.

And Winifred had loved the thrill of rescuing people. As her skills grew, she took on more and more responsibility. Often, Delia would give her a map of a camp, the area around it and its schedules, and tell her to devise an escape plan. Then she would disappear, sometimes for days on end, always returning with a description of the person they were going to target next. Winifred would share her basic plan and then, after work-shopping it together, they would implement it. It was such an incredible rush, to feel like a valuable part of a team. 

And while Winifred always found the people they rescued to be a bit…overwhelming, Delia’s ability to work with them more than made up for Winifred’s awkwardness. She’d never been particularly skilled at reading people, and the folks they rescued were often so…traumatized. It left her at a loss. But she learned there were other ways that she could be helpful. When they picked up a new person, she would take over the cooking and cleaning and finding them clothing and contacting their connections to the path up North, while Delia took care of the person themselves. 

She looked back so fondly on that year. She had felt useful, valued, like a good person. And the work that they were doing was so…uncomplicated. There was no violence or deception. They were rescuing people who needed to be rescued. And even when they added on stealing and distributing mobile beacons, it remained clear in her head that they were doing the _right_ thing. She wished being a spy was like that. 

When Phyllis and Barbara found them, Winifred had wanted to turn down their offer to officially join the Bloc as spies. But Delia had argued that they could do so much more good with the resources and connections the Bloc offered. Winifred was dubious, but she owed Delia so much, and she didn’t know how to argue otherwise.

She had thought briefly about leaving, heading up North with her newfound electronic skills, but the Bloc had still seemed so vast and terrifying, and she just didn’t know if she could make it on her own. So she had stayed and they became the Quartet. And she genuinely liked Barbara and Phyllis. Well, she quite frankly found Phyllis a bit intimidating, but she knew that there was a warm and genuinely dedicated soul under that gruff exterior. 

For the most part, Delia had made sure she was allowed to take a background support role. Providing coms assistance or fiddling with electrical grids. Until the car chase a few months ago, no one had ever asked Winifred to actually _hurt_ anyone. But even then, she was part of a system, a team, that was deceiving and harming, and Winifred felt profoundly uncomfortable with that. She preferred it when there was a clear distinction in her mind between what was right and what was wrong, so that she could be sure of which side she was on. 

She had just about finished putting the machine back together again when Phyllis entered the tent, followed by a sheepish looking Barbara. Winifred looked up and smiled. 

‘Oh, hello you two. Never fear, I’ll be out of your hair so that you can have your tent back in just a moment. I was working on the ultrasound machine in here because it’s such a quiet space compared to the medical tent. I’m just finishing sticking it all back together.’ 

‘Actually, Winifred, I was hoping to speak with you.’ Phyllis looked at her expectantly. 

‘Oh.…Really?’ Winifred wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Normally, she was left pretty much to her own devices, but now suddenly everyone seemed eager to speak with her. It was all a little…odd. 

‘Yes. May I?’ Phyllis gestured to the seat across the table and Winifred nodded. Barbara sat down quietly on her camp bed, looking a bit uncomfortable. Phyllis sat and adjusted herself so she was sitting bolt upright looking at Winifred seriously, ‘I have an update about the mission. HQ isn’t confident Mary Cynthia, Jenny and Alec will succeed, and they have conditionally approved the final stage of Plan B.’ 

Winifred felt a bit of cold dread seep through her. They were going to have to leave camp? To go on another mission to the compound? She realized with startling clarity that she very much didn’t want that.

Phyllis continued, ‘I, however, am not confident that Nurse Mount is going to be willing or perhaps even able to help us in the way we need, so I have been devising a back-up. A Plan C, if you will.’ 

‘A Plan C?’ Winifred felt a little ill. This already complicated mission just kept getting more confusing. And where was Delia? This was a pretty huge change. Why wasn’t this a full team meeting? 

‘Yes, it turns out that Jane’s knowledge of explosives is quite comprehensive, and she and Barbara have been working on an adhesive metal receptacle for some TETN. They’ve been designed to look like electrical junction boxes, so that we can deploy them unnoticed around the compound.’

Barbara had been working on it? How long had Phyllis been formulating Plan C? How long had everyone else known Plan B was approved? Why was she always the last one to know _everything_? Her frustration was soon subsumed by a full realization of what Phyllis had said. She realized she sounded a bit disbelieving, ‘You’re going to blow up the compound?’ 

‘Yes, or at least we’re going to be prepared to. And to be fully prepared, I need your help. Jane doesn’t trust her ability to design an electronic triggering mechanism that will do what we need. I wanted you to look at some specifications I drew up and see if you think you could make it for us.’ 

Winifred tensed, her tone cold, ‘You know I don’t design weapons. Or anything whose sole purpose is to inflict pain.’ 

‘I know that, and I wouldn’t ask you to do this if the plan was to hurt people. We’re going to trigger the alarm, so the compound will be empty. We’re just going to blow up the buildings. They can’t manufacture the virus or its repellent without a research facility.’ 

‘Surely they’ll just manufacture it somewhere else.’ 

‘Well, the computers with the formulas on them will be destroyed, and we know their emergency data procedures now, so we can intercept the individual with the back-up copy.’ 

‘But how will you get the explosives into the compound? _You two_ can’t go back in.’ 

‘Winifred, I need you to trust that we have a plan. I just need your help implementing it.’ 

Winifred considered this for a moment. She supposed that destroying the compound made sense. As long as it was going to be empty. She sighed and replied somewhat hesitantly, ‘I suppose I could take a look at your specifications.’ 

Phyllis looked triumphant as she pulled a small stack of notes from her pocket and handed them to Winifred. As the small spy read them over, her eyebrows shot up and she looked at Phyllis in shock, ‘Phyllis, this is an astoundingly complicated mechanism you’ve outlined here. And TETN can be relatively unstable. Are you sure it will be safe?’ 

‘Jane thinks she can make it work.’ 

That wasn’t the most resounding vote of confidence, but as Winifred looked over the notes again, she realized that this could actually be quite a fun challenge. 

‘Alright, I’ll have Delia take a look at this too, and we’ll come up with a design to run by Jane.’ 

Phyllis tensed slightly, ‘Ah, yes, well, actually in this case I’m going to have to ask you to _not_ tell Delia about this.’ 

Winifred was shocked, ‘What? Why? She’d have some really wonderful ideas for making the mechanism work.’ 

‘I don’t doubt it. But at this point we aren’t telling Delia about Plan B’s approval or Plan C because…well…because she’s too emotionally involved.’ 

‘Too emotionally involved?’ 

‘Yes, with Nurse Mount.’

Winifred was baffled, ‘But…we all like Patsy. And it doesn’t seem like she and Delia being close friends is enough to justify lying to Delia. You always said there’s nothing more important than honesty between teammates.’ 

‘Yes, I know that, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And, quite frankly, they’re more than just close friends.’ 

‘What do you mean? Like, they’re _best_ friends?’ 

‘For goodness sake, Winifred…really? I mean they’re in love with each other.’ 

Winifred was completely taken aback. Delia and Patsy? But…that wasn’t possible. Surely Winifred would know if Delia was gay. Wouldn’t she? And Patsy seemed so…normal. And if it _was_ true, well, that would make not telling Delia far, far worse.

She spoke softly, ‘Phyllis, if that’s true, how is she going to be able to trust the team in the future when we’re lying to her about something she cares so much about?’

Phyllis looked pained, but spoke with conviction, ‘Spy teams aren’t meant to stay together forever. I’m sure Delia has considered ways of staying here once the mission is over.’ 

Winifred was utterly shocked. Delia was thinking of leaving the team? Without telling her? 

‘Phyllis…’ Barbara’s voice, soft but with an edge of shock and uncertainty, cut through the silence. 

Phyllis cut her off, ‘Yes, well, regardless of Delia’s intentions for after the mission, what we have to consider now is stopping the new Reaper virus, and we can’t risk Delia telling Nurse Mount about Plan B. We’re not ready. _She’s_ not ready. Do you think you can design the trigger by yourself?’ 

‘I mean, yes, but –‘

‘Good. Then think it over and run your plan by Jane. HQ can’t know about this little project, so you’ll have to invent some reason to order the supplies. We managed to sneak in the metal and adhesives Barbara needed without attracting Nurse Mount’s attention by using Delia’s fencing surprise as cover, but that’s over now, so you’ll have to think of something else. Perhaps you can say you need electronics for one of the medical machines.’ She pointed at the portable ultrasound that now sat largely forgotten on the table between them, ‘Perhaps even this one.’ 

‘But this one’s fixed…’ 

‘Yes, but it’s been broken for months now, and no one will notice if it’s out of commission for another week or two.’ 

Winifred furrowed her brow as she stared down at the machine. An unfamiliar anxious gnawing took up residence in her stomach. Phyllis and Barbara had been tampering with Patsy’s systems, and not to throw her a surprise, but as part of a larger scheme of deception that had apparently been going on for quite some time. Winifred saw how much effort Patsy put into her stock systems, how seriously she took her responsibility to keep camp running smoothly. Patsy was a good person who didn’t deserve to be played with in that manner. Winifred vowed to come up with a way of obtaining the supplies that didn’t involve lying to Patsy. 

‘I’ll figure something out,’ she mumbled. 

‘Excellent.’ Phyllis raised an eyebrow questioningly, ‘And you won’t tell Delia?’ 

Winifred sighed. She had no idea _what_ to think about Delia. Apparently, the brunette had been considering leaving the team and hadn’t even bothered to tell her. After all they’d been through together. And also, apparently Delia was a lesbian, something that she had managed to go _nine years_ without ever telling Winifred. If Delia couldn’t even be honest with Winifred about the most basic parts of herself, then why should Winifred be honest with her? She shook her head as she looked dejectedly at the table, feeling utterly miserable. Her entire world felt off-kilter. 

Phyllis gave a short satisfied nod, before standing and declaring with finality, ‘Well, if that’s settled, shall we go and get some dinner?’

Winifred couldn’t imagine anything she wanted to do less than eat. The gnawing in her stomach had turned into a burning roil that was leaving her profoundly queasy. 

‘Actually, I think I’m going to stay here and finish putting this back together. You two go ahead without me.’ 

Phyllis looked at her questioningly for a moment before nodding and heading out towards the dining tent, Barbara following awkwardly behind. 

Winifred turned back to the machine on the table, blocking out her racing thoughts as she focused on putting the final touches on its repair. Finally finished, she picked it up and headed out to return it to the medical tent. Without something tactile to focus on, her thoughts came rushing in as she walked. 

Her mind whizzed as she tried to process all that she had learned. Delia was a lesbian and Plan B had been approved and Phyllis had a Plan C HQ didn’t know about and Delia was lesbian and Patsy had been in a camp and Patsy and Delia were in love and Delia was thinking about leaving the team and they were all lying to Delia and…and Delia was a _lesbian_. 

Why had Delia never told her? How did everyone else know? Had Delia told them and not her? Why? Did Delia not trust her? They had known each other for almost a decade, lived together in close quarters just the two of them for a _year_. 

She had a sudden thought that stopped her in her tracks: Had Delia been in love with her? Her stomach churned as she considered the possibility, but then, after a moment, she shook her head and continued walking. No, she might be hopelessly unaware, but even she surely wouldn’t have missed _that_ , right?

As she thought back through their interactions, she blanched as she remembered all of the nights she’d snuggled and held Delia after her nightmares. Oh no. What kind of message had that sent? Did Delia think Winifred was in love with _her_? Did _other people_ think Winifred was in love with her? As she entered the medical tent to drop off the fixed machine, this sudden realization set off a wave of nausea: what if people thought _she_ was gay? She’d lived with Delia, a known lesbian, in a cramped van for a year. She’d become a spy so she could stay with Delia. People probably assumed she was gay by association. 

Almost throwing the ultrasound down on an examination table, Winifred hurried out in the direction of her tent. That was all just too much. She needed to lie down. 

As she rushed towards the incendiary project tent, she considered _why_ she was having such a strong reaction to this news. It wasn’t that she hated gay people. Or at least, not in the way her family did. It was just that she’d always viewed the entire idea of sex as kind of…gross. Perhaps necessary in some circumstances for the continuation of humanity, but otherwise highly unpleasant sounding. But gay people…well, they couldn’t make babies when they had sex, so they were just doing it, well, because they _liked_ it. She shuddered. That _definitely_ wasn’t something she wanted to be associated with. 

It’s not that she wanted all the gays gone. She had always thought how gay people were treated after the Reckoning was wrong. But thinking the gays had a right to be left alone in theory, and finding out that the person you were closest to was herself gay were very different things. And if she hadn’t known this about Delia, what else didn’t she know? Did she really know Delia at all? 

She burst into her tent, eager to sit and wrestle with this new knowledge, only to come to a screeching halt when she saw that the very subject of her thoughts was already there. 

Why wouldn’t she be, Winifred reminded herself, this was her tent too. 

Delia was sitting on her own camp bed, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, just staring at the épée she was holding in her hands. She looked forlorn and distant and like she’d been crying. Finally seeming to notice the presence of someone else in the tent, she looked up and Winifred was shocked by the depth of the sadness in Delia’s eyes.

Winifred glanced at the sword in Delia’s hands, knowing full well that it symbolized Patsy, and for a brief moment she felt a surge of empathy for Delia’s grief. She remembered her interaction with Patsy earlier and wondered what could possibly have gone wrong to leave both women so upset. 

Both _women_. Winifred felt a sudden rush of discomfort and betrayal. As she looked at Delia it was almost as if the brunette was slightly blurry, as if Winifred didn’t know her, couldn’t define her, anymore. 

She realized she’d been just standing staring for an awkwardly long period of time, and she scrambled for something to say, finally settling on, ‘Oh, Delia, you’re not at dinner.’

The brunette shook her head and looked back down at the weapon in her hand, ‘No, I’m not hungry.’ She sounded despondent, and Winifred felt that old discomfort return. Delia’s grief was just too…overwhelming. She’d wanted to lie down, but not now. Not here in the tent, alone with a dejected Delia. 

‘Well, I’m on my way over now, I just needed to…’ her eyes scanned the tent, which was filled to the gills with pipes and nets and assorted pieces of metal. They lit on a parka she’d hung on a pipe, ‘…grab this jacket. You know how cold I get. Anyway, see you later.’ This was a truly terrible excuse, as it was nearly fifteen degrees out, and a parka was profoundly unnecessary, but Delia didn’t seem to notice as Winifred bustled out of the tent. 

Once outside, she took a deep breath and wondered where she could go. Perhaps the isolation tent? Its name did imply she’d have a certain level of privacy. She headed in that direction only to be stopped when she quite literally ran into Barbara as she turned a corner. They both apologized, laughing lightly. 

‘You’re not at dinner?’ 

‘I _was_ , actually, but I decided to come looking for you. You had an awful lot of information thrown at you just now, and I thought you might want a chance to talk about it.’ 

Winifred’s first instinct was to say no, but then, looking up at Barbara’s kind, open face, she realized that she _did_ want someone to just…throw her feelings at. 

‘I just…I feel like a fool, that I went so long without knowing.’ 

Barbara shook her head slightly, ‘You shouldn’t feel like a fool. Phyllis is very good at keeping secrets. And you would have had no reason to suspect Plan B had been approved, and absolutely no way of knowing about Plan C.’ 

‘What? No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about Delia being a lesbian. I had no idea and now…well, now I don’t really even feel like I know who she is. I just wish that she had told me.’ 

‘ _That’s_ your major concern after this afternoon’s conversation? Delia’s lesbianism?’ Barbara sounded both baffled and amused, ‘Look, Winifred, she didn’t tell me. She didn’t _tell_ anyone. We just…figured it out.’ 

‘But how?’ 

‘I mean, it’s not like she, or HQ for that matter, are particularly subtle. Why did you think she was the one assigned the seduction missions?’ 

Winifred shrugged, ‘Well, Phyllis and I certainly weren’t going to be able to do it. And you…well…I’ve seen you around Tom and you sometimes have difficulty forming complete sentences. It just seemed like she was the only option, really.’ 

Barbara considered that for a moment, ‘Alright, you have a point there. But what about during those discussions where we ranked people on Delia’s album covers by attractiveness? Didn’t it seem even a little suspicious that she always ranked the women higher?’ 

‘I mean, she was comparing 1970s Cher to Simon and Garfunkel. There just seems like an objectively right answer there.’ 

‘True, but what about Sam Cooke and Davy Jones? She always ranked women higher than them too.’ 

Winifred looked down at the ground, ‘I suppose you have a point there. I just wish she’d been more straightforward. She never mentioned anything about it to me, even in all the years we were together. I thought we were closer than that.’ 

Barbara smiled slightly, ‘It isn’t as if there was ever any particular _reason_ to bring it up explicitly. We’ve never had the opportunity for romantic encounters.’ She paused for a moment, considering Winifred carefully, ‘Let me ask you something, have you ever told Delia why you were sent to the camps?’ 

Winifred looked up in shock. She had never told _anyone_ that. She shook her head firmly, ‘No.’ 

Barbara gave a small nod, ‘And she’s never asked, even in all the years you’ve been together, because she knows that part of you is _yours_. To share when you’re ready or to never share at all. You don’t _need_ to tell her, regardless of how close you’ve become. And she didn’t _need_ to tell you about her sexuality. No one _owes_ you any part of themselves, no matter how close you are.’

‘But it’s different.’ Winifred was aware she sounded a bit petulant. 

‘How is it different, really? Both your past and her sexuality play a role in making you who you are as people and as teammates.’ 

‘My past doesn’t affect her. Her sexuality affects me,’ Winifred declared with certainty.

Barbara chuckled a bit, ‘How? How does the gender of the person Delia falls in love with in any way affect you?’ 

Winifred was adamant, ‘Because it reflects on me! People might think _I’m_ a lesbian!’ 

‘Well, if _that’s_ your attitude, I can she why she _wouldn’t_ want to tell you.’ 

Winifred glowered at the ground. Why couldn’t Barbara understand? Delia should have known Winifred wouldn’t be able to read her. She should have known to tell her. Winifred sulked silently. 

Finally Barbara sighed, ‘Give people some credit, Winifred. They’re capable of judging you as an individual. I, for one, never assumed you were gay. You always just struck me as…well…as thoroughly disinterested in any kind of romantic relationships.’ 

Winifred was somewhat mollified by that. She sighed deeply, ‘It’s just hard, feeling like I don’t really know her. And why wouldn’t she have told me she was thinking of leaving? Am I really that unimportant to her?’ 

‘First of all, she’s the same Delia you’ve always known. Your knowledge and perception of her may have changed, but nothing about _her_ has changed.’ She paused, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear and lowering her voice, ‘Second, I don’t know this for certain, but I don’t think Delia has actually mentioned anything to Phyllis about leaving the team.’ 

Winifred looked up in confusion, ‘Then why would Phyllis say that?’ 

Barbara was pensive, her brow furrowed, ‘Well, I think Phyllis genuinely knows she’s doing the right thing for the bigger picture, but it’s still hard, lying to Delia. Deep down, she has to know it’s going to ruin their relationship forever and that’s…well…it’s _hard_. So she’s justifying it by convincing herself she’s giving Delia the freedom to develop her relationship with Patsy without deception. That Delia was always going to choose to stay here. That she’ll be happy here. It’s how she rationalizes her lying.’ 

Winifred felt a sudden surge of irritation. It was one thing to lie to someone for the greater good. It seemed an entirely different thing to convince yourself that it was for _their_ good. Winifred had a _right_ to be angry with Delia, but Phyllis and Barbara, they were just deceiving her for their own ends…and justifying it to themselves by pretending it was for Delia? That was too much. She felt the irritation morph into anger, and when she spoke her tone was harsh, ‘And how do _you_ rationalize it? The lying?’ 

Barbara shrugged, looking uneasy, ‘Well, it’s an order for one thing, but more than that, it’s for the greater good. There are so many lives at stake. I’m not particularly comfortable with it, but the right thing to do isn’t always the comfortable thing to do.’ 

Winifred narrowed her eyes slightly, ‘If it’s uncomfortable enough, maybe that’s a sign it’s not right.’ 

They stood there in awkward silence for a moment. Winifred’s anger faded quickly into slight embarrassment, and her mind raced as she considered all that was at stake. She had felt a flash of righteous defensiveness for Delia, but now she was losing her grip on the certainty of that conviction. Hadn’t Delia sort of betrayed all of them when she allowed herself to fall for Patsy? And _was_ the greater good more important than the feelings of those closest to you? Those who trusted you? She hated that she had to grapple with these questions. She just wanted life to be _simple_. She let out a sigh and Barbara seemed to see it as an opening. 

She spoke with some trepidation, ‘You’re not going to tell her, are you?’ 

Winifred looked down at the ground, feeling defeated, ‘No, I’m not.’ 

Barbara looked relieved, ‘And how are _you_ rationalizing it?’ Her tone had none of the harshness of Winifred’s version, only curiosity. 

Winifred considered this for a moment. She wanted to say that it was for the greater good. That the lives of millions of people were more important than her relationship with Delia. But she knew that wasn’t true. No, she knew the real reason she’d decided to play along with Phyllis’ plan came from a place of hurt and betrayal. A place that was far pettier than she wanted to admit. 

Glancing back to the tent for a moment, she turned to Barbara and shrugged, ‘She lied to me first.’ 

And with that, she spun around and walked back towards her tent. She might be angry with Delia, she might feel hurt and betrayed, but right now she also felt profoundly tired. In this moment, any discomfort with Delia’s presence was overwhelmed by a pressing need to just go to sleep. 

 

_____________________

 

Winifred was jolted from her slumber by a harsh buzzing sound. She lay there for a moment, trying to orient herself. She heard movement from the other bed, followed by a clanging. The buzzing abruptly stopped. 

She had returned to the tent after her conversation with Barbara to find Delia lying in a mound under her blanket, turned towards the tent wall, the épée snuggled in her arms. Winifred hadn’t been able to tell if Delia was sleeping or not, but had decided to leave her teammate alone. 

It appeared that now, several hours later, the sword had fallen off of the bed and landed on its tip, waking her. Winifred turned and prepared to go back to sleep again when she heard more rustlings from Delia’s bed, and some mutterings that sounded perhaps distressed. Her ears perked up. Was Delia having her nightmare again? Should Winifred go wake her? 

‘Patsy!’ The word was crystal clear, and Winifred’s heart clenched. Was Delia having a salacious dream about Patsy? Was Winifred going to have to lie there and listen to Delia’s dream noises? She curled up in horror. This was one of the worst things she could imagine. She tried to meld into the fabric of the bed as she tried to figure out what she should do. 

‘No! Patsy!...Phyllis!...Help!...Nooooooo!’ Winifred sat up immediately. Her relief that this most definitely wasn’t a sexual dream was almost immediately subsumed by concern for Delia, who was now thrashing wildly. 

Without thinking, Winifred shot out of her bed and ran across the tent, kneeling beside Delia’s bed, and reaching out to softly shake her awake. 

‘Delia! Delia! Wake up! You’re dreaming again!’ 

After several moments, Delia started awake, looking around for a moment in wide-eyed confusion, ‘Winifred?’ 

‘Yes, it’s just me. Are you alright? It sounded like you were having a nightmare.’ 

She looked down at Delia, who was still breathing heavily and glistening with sweat. The brunette looked ghastly and Winifred felt her heart clench with empathy. 

Delia shook her head lightly, as if trying to clear it of accumulated cobwebs, ‘I think I’m fine now. Thanks for waking me. I’m sorry I disturbed you.’ 

Winifred nodded and then paused, unsure of what to do next. Normally, she would have gotten into bed with Delia, snuggled with her to try to take away some of her fear. Some of her pain. But now…now Winifred felt paralyzed by uncertainty. She still very much wanted for Delia to feel better, but…would Delia think that it was a come-on? Did Delia even want her to snuggle with her, now that she was in love with Patsy? Would Delia be imagining that she was Patsy? Her stomach plummeted and she felt a little ill. That would just be too much. 

‘Well, if you’re sure you’re alright, I’m going to go back to my bed and try to fall asleep.’

‘Oh. Yes. Of course, that’s just fine. I’m sorry I woke you.’ Delia’s voice couldn’t hide her mild confusion and…perhaps even a little disappointment, and Winifred just didn’t have the energy to consider what that meant. 

‘Don’t apologize. I’m just glad I was here to wake you. I hope you’re able to fall asleep again. Without nightmares this time.’ Winifred smiled softly and awkwardly patted Delia on the shoulder before shuffling carefully back to her own bed. 

She flopped back down on her own still-warm mattress, feeling utterly miserable. Until now, her interactions with Delia had always been so easy, but now they felt hard and awkward. She hated it. 

Winifred remembered Barbara’s words: that Delia was the same Delia she’d always known. That nothing about _her_ had changed. But for Winifred, Delia _had_ changed, or at least Winifred’s perception of her had, which seemed like the same thing. For almost a decade, Delia had been a source of stability in a world of social interaction that she didn’t always fully understand how to navigate. But now, her confidence in their relationship was crumbling, and it left her feeling profoundly unmoored. 

 

______________________

 

Winifred glanced nervously back and forth between her three teammates as they gathered at the table in Phyllis and Barbara’s tent. As she had been about to enter their weekly check-in meeting, Phyllis had pulled her aside and whispered ‘Remember, Delia doesn’t know’ before ducking in herself. So now Winifred sat, yesterday’s revelations firmly in her mind, and tried not to look too terribly awkward as she made eye contact with Delia. The brunette looked utterly exhausted. 

Once they were all settled, Phyllis cleared her throat and began, ‘So, how are things progressing this week? Barbara, Delia, did all of the incendiary project supplies arrive as expected?’ 

Barbara nodded, ‘Yes, we completed the inventorying yesterday, and every last piece is accounted for.’ 

Phyllis looked pleased, ‘Excellent. You should be able to start in on it today, then. How long do you think it will take for the project to be completed?’

Barbara glanced a little awkwardly at Delia, obviously wanting her teammate to take over the discussion. 

Delia sighed, ‘Actually, that’s something we wanted to talk to you about. This is a massive project that encompasses the entire camp. I’m not sure it’s realistic for the two of us to be able to complete it ourselves. At least not in a timely manner. I think we need help.’ 

Phyllis nodded, ‘That definitely seems reasonable. I think my leg and arm are still too weak to do the heavy lifting that may be required, though I’ll do my best to assist when I’m able. Winifred,’ she turned and looked directly at the small spy, ‘You should be able to help, I believe.’ 

For a moment, Winifred was confused as she thought about the triggering mechanism she had been tasked with designing, but then she remembered Delia wasn’t supposed to know about that. 

‘Oh, yes, of course, I’ll help in whatever way I can. I’m quite handy at soldering, so I should be able to help join the pipes. I’m not sure how useful I’ll be with the heavy lifting, but I’ll do my best.’ 

‘And Trixie should be able to help as well, when she’s not in the medical tent,’ Barbara piped in, ‘We’ve made tremendous progress on getting vehicles repaired, and I think we’re enough ahead of schedule on that front that we can take a break from that project.’ 

‘That would be wonderful. I’ll talk to Mr Noakes to see if he can spare a few people from his security crew to assist on occasion. I know there’s only a few of them, but if nothing else they may be able to do the heavy lifting that we all seem eager to avoid,’ Phyllis chuckled. 

‘That’s still not that many people for such a large undertaking. Is there anyone else who might have the skills we need? Perhaps Jane?’ Barbara glanced at Phyllis. 

‘Perhaps.’ Phyllis seemed to consider this, ‘I’ll talk to her and see if she has experience with soldering.’ 

‘Well if it’s more soldering experience you’re looking for, I’m sure Patsy can help.’ Winifred interjected. 

‘Why would Patsy be able to help with soldering?’ Barbara asked curiously.

Winifred had to remind herself that, despite their experience with survivors, her teammates didn’t really know the nuts and bolts of what went on in indoctrination camps. She supposed that wasn’t really their fault. She certainly never talked about it. 

‘Well, most everyone at the camps was taught how to solder. First electrical soldering to build weapons, but then soldering pipes so they could make us fix the plumbing. And as part of the general trades teaching. You know, basic plumbing, basic electrical, basic carpentry.’ She furrowed her brow and lowered her voice to mimic the old man who used to yell it at them every morning, ‘To create the workforce help re-build the nation.’ She continued in her normal voice, ‘I mean, none of us were ever going to be married, so I suppose there had to be some way for us to be useful.’ She paused to consider, ‘Though now that I think about it, she may have been put into the soldier class, given her shooting ability, so perhaps she didn’t learn those things at all. They kind of, well…they did their own thing. I suppose that _is_ what’s most likely. Never mind.’ 

Everyone at the table had stopped and was looking at her as if she’d just said the most ridiculous thing they’d ever heard. 

Phyllis finally spoke, ‘Winifred, what on _earth_ are you talking about?’

‘Patsy.’ Winifred couldn’t fathom what was so difficult to understand, and decided that her rambling explanation had been the culprit, ‘I thought she must have learned to solder in the camps, but then I realized that I was probably wrong.’ 

‘What do you mean ‘in the camps’? Why would you think Nurse Mount was in a camp? That seems extremely unlikely, with who her family is.’ Phyllis’ brow was deeply furrowed. 

‘She told me she was,’ Winifred suddenly realized her mistake, ‘Wait, you three didn’t know?’ Her stomach dropped. Oh no. Was she not supposed to say anything?

Phyllis sounded stunned as she asked, ‘Nurse Mount _told_ you she was in a camp?’ 

At the exact same moment, Delia whispered, ‘She told _you_?’ 

Winifred looked back and forth between them, taking in Phyllis’ astonished expectation and Delia’s look of deep confusion and hurt. For a brief moment, she felt a little burst of schadenfreude as she realized that now Delia would know what it felt like to have someone close to you tell _other people_ but not you something important about themselves. Though she didn’t want Delia to look _that_ upset. 

‘Winifred. What happened?’ Phyllis’ stern tone roused her from her musings. 

‘Oh, yes, well, she told me, but only after I told her…because she knew the pledge, or the start of it at least, so then I finished it, so then she knew…but she knew already really, because of the fencing.’

Phyllis looked irritated, ‘You’re not making any sense, Winifred. Start from the beginning.’ 

Winifred took a deep breath and organized her thoughts, ‘Patsy came to me and asked where I had learned to fence. Because my knowledge made her suspicious.’ 

Barbara cut in, ‘Why would your fencing knowledge make her suspicious?’ 

‘Because fencing was a big thing in the camps. It was viewed as harkening back to this time of chivalry and European purity, so there were all of these strange rites and challenges associated with it. For those who were in the soldier class, it could get extremely intense. As you can imagine, I was never very good at any of that, but I did learn the theory. So when she found out I knew about fencing, it must have made her suspect.’ 

Delia put her head in her hands and moaned, ‘Oh my God, I made her fence.’ 

Phyllis focused on Winifred, ‘So then she asked you if you’d been in the camps?’ 

‘Well…no. Not exactly. You don’t just _ask_ someone if they’ve been in a camp. She knew the pledge. It’s this _thing_ we had to say once we’d passed a certainly level of our re-training. You’d only really know it if you’d been in a camp. Anyway, she said the first part, I said the second part, and then we both knew.’ 

‘Did she say _why_ she was sent to the camps?’ 

‘No. She didn’t really say much of anything about herself. Only that she got out of the camp by just… _leaving_. She mainly seemed interested in how Delia had reacted to finding out _I_ was in a camp, which seemed odd at the time, but now…’ Winifred froze, suddenly realizing that she didn’t know what she was and wasn’t supposed to know about Patsy and Delia. Keeping secrets was so _confusing_. She glanced at Delia, who looked utterly stricken. Winifred diverted quickly, ‘Anyway, I explained about what Delia and I did…before we met you two, which, honestly, I was surprised she didn’t already know, and then she just kind of…ran out.’ 

Phyllis and Barbara looked utterly shocked. Delia’s eyes were rapidly darting back and forth, as if she were trying to piece things together in her head. 

Barbara spoke first, ‘She said she got out of the camp by just _leaving_?’

‘I know, it didn’t make much sense to me either. Maybe because who her family is, she could just go? I’m not sure.’ 

‘If she was sent there, they wouldn’t have let her leave, regardless of who her family was.’ Phyllis sounded certain. ‘No, there’s definitely something more there. But this information _does_ explain a great deal. Though it’s still almost unbelievable that she was in a camp. It doesn’t really make any sense.’ 

Suddenly Delia shot up out of her chair, ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go…I just…I can’t be here right now.’ 

‘That’s just fine,’ Phyllis spoke softly, ‘We’re pretty much done anyway. Why don’t you go for a walk? You can start the incendiary project after lunch.’ 

Delia nodded, though Winifred wasn’t entirely sure she was actually listening, and then turned and practically ran out of the tent. 

Phyllis let out a prolonged sigh, ‘Well, _that_ certainly turned out to be a more informative check-in than I was expecting.’ She turned to Winifred, ‘You did a very nice job, getting that information from Patsy. Well done.’ 

Winifred furrowed her brow. No, that didn’t seem right. She hadn’t _gotten_ anything from anyone. It was now clear to Winifred that Patsy had disclosed part of her past to her because they’d shared a similar experience…and because Patsy was terrified of being rejected by Delia. Patsy had confided in her as a fellow survivor, and Phyllis had interpreted that as dubious spy machinations on Winifred’s part. She flinched internally, realizing how crass that sounded, how _dirty_ it made her feel. 

As she sat at the table, staring ahead of her, Winifred came to the conclusion that she no longer wanted to be associated with a vocation that could view someone as good and kind and resilient as Patsy as simply an _asset_ , not a complete person. She would design the triggering mechanism because she had promised to, she would help to build the incendiary prevention device because it was an unambiguously beneficial project, and then…well, she now knew for certain what she needed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: Normally, I'm very careful about ensuring that the things that the team creates are all described accurately and are realistically feasible with the resources they have. I generally have a lot of fun researching how each item would be made in such a scenario. It's one of my favorite things about this fictional world. The wheelchair, the oven, the fencing gear, the incendiary system...they're all completely plausible and the team could absolutely have created them (albeit with their very specific skillsets).
> 
> The explosive is not going to be that way, largely due to the fact that (a) I don't want to be looking in the dark corners of the internet at how to build explosives...for my own privacy and cyber safety and (b) explosives aren't a big interest of mine, and I'm not excited about putting in the effort to ensure that every one of its properties is scientifically accurate. TETN is generally meant to be a secondary explosive, similar to TNT, but it and its properties are entirely figments of my imagination.


	15. Patsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a bit since the last update. This chapter was important and challenging and I wanted to be sure to take the time to get it right. I sincerely hope that you enjoy it.

Patsy stood awkwardly behind a corner, staring nervously at the entrance to Phyllis and Barbara’s tent. The Quartet had gone in for their weekly check-in about a quarter of an hour ago. She wondered how long they usually took. What they talked about. If an opportunity would come up for Winifred to mention that Patsy had been in an indoctrination camp. 

Patsy sighed forlornly as she placed her forehead against the weathered canvas of the tent she was hiding behind. She felt like such a fool. Delia had been so kind and supportive and… _perfect_ , and Patsy had repaid her with fear and mistrust. 

But she’d been so _scared_. When she’d first arrived in the Bloc, she told people she’d been in a camp because, quite frankly, she hadn’t known any better. The horror, fear, and subsequent alienation that greeted this revelation quickly changed that. She learned to hide that part of herself, creating a new history to accompany her new name: Patience Mount. Or, more accurately, a lack of history. 

Through her years of training and work at Bloc hospitals, she’d made friends fairly easily, finding that people enjoyed being around someone who was competent, friendly, and a good listener. But she never shared any part of her past, and never really opened herself up emotionally to anyone. And for the most part that worked quite well…until she transferred to Camp Poplar two years ago.

She’d requested the placement because she knew workers willing to live in refugee camps were in short supply, and her combination of nursing and logistical skills would be invaluable. She’d also just never felt quite at home in the Bloc; the shock and pain of people’s initial reactions to her never fully wore off. The warmth and dedication of the staff at Camp Poplar had been such a welcome surprise.

But the panicked refugees and incendiary attacks and camp security had roused memories she’d long since tried to bury, and it left her floundering. Julienne had suggested that she cut her time in the camp short, but Patsy had assured her that, while the camp had undoubtedly been a dizzying shift of tempo, she could learn and adjust. And the camp director had eventually agreed, on the condition that Patsy try meeting with her for counselling, a prospect that Patsy had at first found utterly terrifying. 

Working with Julienne, however, had been a revelation. It gave her a vocabulary for her feelings. A sense that her reactions were normal. The ability _to_ learn and adjust. But it hadn’t taken away her fear…of alienation, of pity, of herself. 

Delia was the first person she’d ever met who she’d considered _wanting_ to share a part of her past with, and Patsy had been _so close_ to telling her. But then she’d remembered how people in the Bloc had reacted, and she knew she couldn’t survive that kind of judgement now. Not from Delia. 

After walking out of the medical storage tent, Patsy had gone to the one person she knew would be able to provide her the assurance she needed to protect herself. Someone she’d deduced shared at least part of her experience. But when Winifred told her what she and Delia had done, Patsy felt absolutely awful for her lack of trust. She _knew_ she should go find Delia and tell her, but by then guilt had compounded on fear and she felt suffocated by the weight of her emotions. 

So she had taken the coward’s way out and hoped that Winifred might do her dirty work for her. The small spy often struggled to connect to people and Patsy suspected that Winifred would let the redhead’s secret slip as she tried to bond with teammates she thought already knew. However, if for some reason Winifred didn’t, Patsy had promised herself she’d tell Delia as soon as her meeting was over. 

Suddenly, Delia burst out of the tent, looking distressed. One look at her face all but confirmed Patsy’s suspicion. She was heading in Patsy’s direction practically at a run, obviously unaware of the redhead’s presence. 

‘Delia…’ Patsy used her quick reflexes to reach out as the Welshwoman was about to blow past, lightly touching her arm. 

Delia skidded to a halt and whirled to face her, obviously caught off guard. Her eyes were a bit wild. 

‘Patsy?’ 

Patsy glanced at the ground as she shuffled her feet awkwardly, ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ She paused for a moment before speaking so softly she knew it was almost inaudible, but she couldn’t bring herself to be louder, ‘Did Winifred tell you?’ 

Patsy steeled herself, knowing deep down she shouldn’t worry, but still terrified of Delia’s judgement. She looked up to see Delia nod, her eyes holding none of the terror or disgust or pity that Patsy had so greatly feared. Only hurt and lingering surprise and…guilt? Patsy swallowed, ‘I suppose I owe you an explanation for yesterday. For running out on you.’ 

Delia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, remaining almost meditatively still for several long moments. Finally, with a long exhale, she opened her eyes. The wildness and surprise were gone, though her body was still rigid with tension and she looked exhausted. 

‘You don’t _owe_ me anything, Pats. Your past is yours, and I understand why you were scared. I even see why you went to Winifred; you two share something that I can never fully understand. I was just…surprised, that’s all…that she would know.’ 

Patsy felt a sudden swell of emotion. She knew that, despite what she had just said, the last day must have been incredibly difficult for Delia, but here she was, trying to make Patsy feel better. She realized with a sudden, forceful clarity that she _wanted_ Delia to understand, to know about her darkness. 

But as she gazed down at the tense and weary-looking woman before her, Patsy saw that, right now, she needed to do something to help Delia relax a bit…and to show her how important she was. She decided this was the perfect moment to reveal the little surprise she’d wrangled together before her loss of control during the hand-to-hand combat had thrown everything off-kilter. 

She smiled softly, ‘While I very much appreciate you saying that, I’d still love the opportunity to talk to you. Because I _want_ to, not because I feel like I have to.’ She reached out and gestured in the direction of her tent, ‘Maybe we can chat in my tent? I have a small surprise for you. I have a feeling you’ll object to me calling it an apology, so shall we just say it’s an _acknowledgement_...of how difficult the last day must have been for you.’ 

After a moment of consideration, Delia nodded, though she still looked somewhat withdrawn. As they walked over, Patsy noticed that the brunette seemed uncharacteristically nervous and tense, like something was bubbling just beneath the surface. Patsy was more convinced than ever that this was a good time for the surprise. 

Entering the tent, she suggested that Delia sit on the end of her bed while she made her way to the bureau. She got down on her knees and began rooting around in the bottom drawer, looking for the opening to the secret compartment where she hid things from Trixie. She struggled with the latch for a moment before it popped satisfyingly. 

Suddenly, Delia’s voice rang out, sounding oddly wobbly, ‘Please, Patsy, I don’t want you going to all this trouble for me. I don’t deserve your kindness, after what I made you do.’ 

‘What?’ Patsy, leaning awkwardly forward, her head almost in the bureau drawer, looked back over her shoulder to see Delia standing just inside the tent, tears in her eyes, shifting rapidly from foot to foot. Patsy couldn’t have been more baffled, ‘Delia, what on earth are you talking about?’ 

‘Winifred told us about fencing in the camp.’ Delia’s voice broke, ‘I’m so sorry, Patsy. I had no idea. That must have been so terrible to re-live.’ Tears began sliding down her face. 

Patsy’s heart constricted. She was up and across the tent in a flash, putting her hands on Delia’s shoulders and ducking so that she could look directly into her eyes. She spoke softly, but with vehemence, ‘No, Deels. There were things I didn’t share with you, but I _didn’t_ lie. I can’t even begin to tell you how much the fencing meant to me. Getting to rediscover the joy of it was more wonderful than I could have imagined. Fencing was one of my first loves, and you helped me re-claim it. Please don’t apologize for that.’ 

Delia took a deep, shuddering breath, looking up hopefully, ‘Really?’ 

‘Really.’ Patsy smiled softly, ‘You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.’ She looked into Delia’s eyes, trying her hardest to communicate her sincerity. 

Delia’s eyes searched her face for several moments and then, suddenly, she burst into tears, words flowing from her in a torrent, ‘Oh Pats, I missed you so much and I was so worried about you and you just cut me off so completely and then you walked out and I thought…I thought I’d lost you forever, that you’d never talk to me again.’ 

Completely overwhelmed, Patsy just wrapped Delia in her arms and held her as she sobbed. 

Patsy had always thought of her emotional barriers as a purely personal form of protection. They kept her safe; they kept her emotions contained. And if they sometimes left her feeling kind of…empty, well, that seemed preferable to feeling out of control. It had never really dawned on her to consider that her protective mechanisms might have a profound impact on others. That the hard, unforgiving exterior that kept her secure could hurt when it collided with someone who cared about her. 

She had been so afraid – of her feelings, of what she was capable of. Shutting down staved off the fear that being around Delia would cause her to lose control. She’d convinced herself she was protecting Delia, but she now realized that in trying to protect her, she’d managed to hurt her more than she could fathom. That she had managed to cause this caring, wonderful, kind, beautiful woman pain was absolutely gut wrenching. She _never_ wanted to see Delia upset, let alone because of her.

Standing there in her tent, holding the Welshwoman firmly in her arms, she finally admitted to herself what Delia meant to her. She was certain beyond a doubt that she wanted to be a central part of Delia’s world, and to have Delia be a central part of hers. She wanted to be the one who brought out Delia’s smile and the mischievous twinkle in her eye. She wanted to be there for her when she was overwhelmed, to walk with her, to sing with her, to snuggle with her. 

And somewhere deep down she knew that, in order for that to happen, she would need to be willing to share the parts of herself she kept buried. And as terrifying as that prospect was, it struck her that she trusted Delia to keep her heart safe. It was a bit of a relief, actually, to finally acknowledge that. 

She placed a gentle kiss on the top of Delia’s head, ‘I’m so, so sorry, Deels. I let my fear get the better of me. I should have trusted you. But you haven’t lost me. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.’ 

Delia lifted her arms and wrapped them around Patsy, clinging to her tightly. They simply stood holding each other for a long while, Patsy whispering apologies and assurances as she peppered Delia’s hair with an occasional light kiss. 

 

 

 

Eventually, when Delia had fully calmed, Patsy released her grip and looked at her warmly, ‘Now that you’ve gotten that out, will you allow me to fetch you this little treat? You’ve had an utter shit week, largely due to yours truly, and I think you absolutely deserve a little something special.’ 

Delia gave a slightly watery smile and nodded. Patsy saw her wet cheeks and runny nose and first fetched Delia a handkerchief before getting back down on her knees to wrangle the box from its hidden compartment. Standing, she grabbed her and Trixie’s water glasses as she tucked the box under her arm. Carrying her haul back across the tent, she noticed that Delia had taken a seat on the end of her bed. She still looked tired, but the tension and nervousness were gone.

Placing everything down on the end table, she popped the box opened and pulled out a small flask. 

Behind her, she heard Delia snicker lightly, ‘Patsy, are you going to ply me with alcohol? It isn’t even noon.’ 

Patsy smiled, glad to hear mirth returned to Delia’s voice, ‘I hear that before the Reckoning people used to go to brunch on the weekends and drink all sorts of cocktails, sometimes even before ten! This can be our own little brunch…only without the food.’ 

Delia’s smile when Patsy turned to glance at her made her heart sing. The brunette hopped off of the bed and made her way over to where Patsy was working, ‘So, what am I to be treated to for this liquid brunch of ours? A nice Scotch?’ 

‘You remember how four weeks ago you were telling me the story of your mission at the cocktail party in Chelsea and you got to taste real London gin for the first time and you loved it, but couldn’t drink more than a few sips because you were on duty? Well…’ Patsy puffed up proudly and brandished the flask at Delia, ‘I got you some authentic London gin! So that you could enjoy it when you weren’t on a stressful mission.’ 

Delia’s eyes widened in surprise as she took the flask from Patsy, holding it a bit reverentially, ‘Patsy, how on _earth_ did you get this? There’s so little gin it’s generally reserved for Council members.’ 

Patsy tapped the side of her nose and flashed a mischievous grin, ‘I’m not the chief logistics officer for nothing, Deels. Anyway, that wasn’t nearly as difficult to get hold of as these.’ With a flourish she pulled out a small glass bottle and a single admittedly sad-looking lime. 

Delia looked at the bottle in awe, ‘Is that…tonic? Like, real, carbonated tonic? Pats, this is _amazing_!’ 

Patsy beamed as she used her multi-tool to pop the lid off of the tonic, pouring half into each glass before adding several ounces of gin. She then cut the lime and plopped a wedge into each drink. Turning, she offered one of them to Delia, ‘You’d best savour it, because there’s only enough gin and tonic for one each.’ 

‘First pistachios and now a real gin-and-tonic? You pamper me.’ 

‘You deserve it.’ 

Delia took a small sip, closing her eyes to savour the indulgent treat. When she opened them, her face burst into a broad smile, ‘It’s delicious. Really, thank you, Pats. I know getting all of this couldn’t have been easy.’ 

Patsy flushed with pleasure and shrugged dismissively. She gestured to the bed and then sat on it herself, pulling herself up so she was sitting cross-legged, facing the foot of the bed. Delia mirrored her, settling down with a contented sigh. 

‘Not to make you divulge too many of your logistical secrets, but I’m assuming Fred is somehow involved in the acquisition of these items. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you pay him with?’ 

‘Medicines, mostly.’ 

Delia gasped in faux shock, ‘Patience Mount, does HQ know you’re bartering away valuable medical supplies in order to ply emotionally vulnerable women with alcohol?’ 

Patsy chuckled, ‘No, but Julienne does. Well, not the plying vulnerable women part, but she’s well aware of how I play the black market game.’ 

‘And she approves?’ 

‘She suggested it. Fred sells a bit of the medicine to wealthy Redemptionists annoyed at the rationing, enough to fund his enterprise and allow him a few bits and bobs, but most of it he distributes free of charge to folks in the Exemption Zones. The Bloc doesn’t seem interested in them until they arrive as refugees, and the Redemptionists certainly aren’t providing adequate medical care, so it’s our little way of ensuring at least some basic medical supplies are getting to where they’re needed.’ 

Delia looked impressed, ‘I’d never have pegged Julienne for the rebellious type. Pilfering away medicines under the Bloc’s nose like some kind of modern Robin Hood…though now that I think of it, I suppose she _would_ look quite dashing in tights with a bow and arrow.’ 

Patsy laughed heartily, ‘I can’t speak to the tights, but I _can_ say she’s quite a capable archer. You should ask her for a demonstration.’ 

‘Are you trying to set me up with Julienne?’ Delia’s look was pure mischief, ‘Because you should know, women who know their way around bows and arrows is kind of a _thing_ for me.’ 

‘I’m afraid I’d be leading you astray there. Julienne is very much wedded to Camp Poplar. I fear it’s a romance that even your considerable charms couldn’t break up.’ She cocked her head as if considering, ‘Though, from what you’ve mentioned, it would seem that Barbara solidly meets your solitary criterion.’ 

Delia nodded, ‘That’s true, she _is_ quite impressive, though hopelessly straight, I’m afraid. And I have more than one criterion, thank you very much! I’ll have you know that I have an exhaustive list of requirements for any lady wishing to win my affection.’

Patsy cocked an eyebrow, ‘Such as?’ 

Delia began counting on her fingers, ‘Well, she has to be kind, taller than me, thoughtful, a good dancer, and she has to have stunning blue eyes, and a great sense of humour, and she should be an absolute delight to be around, and she should give wonderfully thoughtful gifts…oh, and most importantly, she has to be able to hit a target the size of an apple in the dark from twenty yards away with a crossbow.’ 

Patsy felt herself blushing but kept her voice light, ‘Well, that’s quite a _specific_ list. I’ll keep an eye out for someone who meets your _exacting_ standards.’ 

‘Please do.’ Delia casually sipped her drink, eyeing Patsy over the rim of the glass. 

Looking across at her, Patsy decided to take a leap, ‘I do have one point of clarification, though, as I’m on the lookout for you. What about her having deep-seated trust issues and a paralyzing fear of emotional intimacy that makes her wall off those who care about her? Is that on your list?’ 

‘Hmmmm,’ Delia cocked her head to the side, as if considering carefully, ‘No, I think that would just be a bonus.’ 

‘Delia…’ Patsy knew they had been being playful, but she wanted Delia to take this part seriously. 

The brunette picked up on the change of tenor with ease, ‘In all seriousness, Pats, I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you better even if it meant seeing your dark underbelly. The last week has been scary and hard, but you worked through it, you found a way to overcome your fear, and you’re here, now, actually talking about your emotions with me. And for me, that’s enough for now. I don’t expect you to be perfect, I just want you to be you.’ 

‘But what if there’s rather a lot more dark underbelly than you expected?’ 

‘I think you’ll find it’s going to take an awful lot to scare me off. I mean, did you hear my list? It’d take me several lifetimes to find someone else who meets all of my criteria so thoroughly.’ 

Patsy smiled bashfully at that before looking down at her hands, ‘And it doesn’t bother you that I was in a camp?’ 

‘Absolutely not.’ Delia was adamant, ‘And quite frankly, I don’t understand why it would bother anyone.’ 

‘I think you’ll find that’s not exactly a prevalent sentiment.’ 

‘Well then people are idiots. I’ve interacted with dozens and dozens of camp survivors over the years, and they’re some of the strongest, bravest and most dedicated people I know.’ 

Patsy had never heard someone talk about people who had been in camps that way before. Delia said it with such certainty. As if there was no possible valid reason for thinking otherwise. It was invigorating. 

She felt a surge of desire to open up, to share with the overwhelmingly understanding woman sitting before her, but when she tried to begin, no words would come out. As it turned out, deciding that she wanted to share her past and actually overcoming her fear and sharing it were two very different prospects. Floundering, she blurted out a question. 

‘Is rescuing people how you met them?’ She cringed at her own awkwardness. 

Delia seemed unfazed, ‘For the most part. Though I’ve run into a few through various missions as well. And then there’s you.’ 

Patsy winced. Yes, then there was her. She felt herself being crushed under the weight of having to start this conversation. She’d barely even discussed this with Julienne, and then there had been so little to lose. Now, the risks seemed so much higher. She doubted Delia had ever met someone with her experience. What if it was too much? She launched another question, desperately hoping that Delia would realize she needed to take the reins to get the discussion going. 

‘And how did you end up doing it, rescuing people? You must have been quite young.’ 

Delia squinted at her for a moment before giving a brief nod, taking a deep breath, and launching into her story. 

‘Well, you might say that I sort of just…happened into it. At fourteen, I found myself on my own, walking north through Wales, with a vague idea of reaching the Bloc, but no real plan. I walked at night and hid during the day…keeping to the fields, stealing food wherever I could. Then, just outside of the village of Corwen, I happened upon an indoctrination camp, and I was completely entranced. They were such a big part of my youth, a threat hanging over my head at all times, and I was so _curious_. So I just kind of camped out there, hiding as I watched the comings and goings, trying to figure out what was going on inside. And that’s when I noticed that I wasn’t the only one watching. There was another woman, except she seemed to be watching the inmates themselves as they marched to and from camp for their various work placements. Analysing them; taking notes. So I began following her. For the first few nights, she just went to a little rudimentary shelter in the woods, but eventually she went further, to the outskirts of town, to a non-descript van parked on the side of the road. Several hours later, she re-emerged carrying a giant bag and returned to the camp. Later that day, as some of the inmates were marching back from work in the fields, she threw a small object at one of them…a young woman, a girl, really, who picked it up and hid it in her skirts. I was so baffled.’ 

‘Did you ever figure out what it was?’ Patsy was completely drawn in. 

‘It was a small red and black stone.’ Delia paused, ‘Would you have known what that meant? If someone had thrown it at you?’ She looked legitimately curious. 

Patsy considered this for a moment, ‘I would have immediately known it was from the Bloc. And I would have known that picking it up was incredibly dangerous, but leaving it there was dangerous for whoever threw it. I think mainly it would have told me to be on the lookout for something else.’ 

Delia nodded, apparently satisfied with this response. Patsy wondered if Delia understood just _how_ dangerous picking up that stone would have been. If you were found with it, you would have been severely punished…probably killed if you were already known as a troublemaker. 

Delia continued, ‘That night, the woman snuck onto the road under cover of darkness and did _something_ there for several hours. The next day, just as the field workgroup was returning for the evening, I noticed the van from the village pull up around the corner from the camp, behind where I was hiding. Suddenly, a series of ear-splitting explosions went off just in front of the group of inmates. The guards stayed remarkably calm, kneeling and then approaching the site of the explosions. The inmates mostly hunkered down in place, a few dove into the brush at the side of the road. The girl from the day before, though, she dove into the brush and then began crawling rapidly away. Just then, another set of explosions went off behind the group, shooting up plumes of smoke and dust everywhere. The woman suddenly appeared in front of the girl, wrapping her in a large brown blanket to obscure her yellow uniform and ushering her towards the van. This happened to bring them right past where I was hiding in some bushes, and as she ran by, the woman yelled, ‘You’re gonna want to be coming with us, young lady. They’ll be scouring these woods and you don’t wanna be caught.’ I had no idea how she had seen me, but I instantly ran after them and jumped into the van just as it was speeding away. And that’s how I met Abigail and Terence Bissette, a couple who travelled the country in their van rescuing people.’ 

‘The Redemptionists didn’t chase the van?’ Patsy was sceptical. 

‘Oh, no, they most definitely did, but Terence is an absolutely cracking driver. He knew every single lane and curve like the back of his hand. And he’d set up an absolutely ingenious little barricade at one of the lanes. He’d laid grain down at the edge of a field by the gate, and then out into the road. Then he ran a wire attached to the gate across the road, so that when the van drove through the wire it unlatched the gate and all of the sheep poured out across the road to get to the grain. The pursuing Jeeps didn’t dare plough through the sheep, and we got away quite easily.’

‘And you weren’t worried about just hopping into this van with complete strangers?’ Patsy considered whether that was something she would _ever_ do. 

Delia shrugged, ‘I’m not sure I really had much choice. I’d certainly have been caught if I’d stayed. Anyway, here were people actually helping others _escape_ from camps. Running into them was like a dream come true.’

Patsy could see the logic in that. 

‘And did you ever learn when Abigail first saw you?’ 

Delia let out a single, loud, burst of laughter, ‘She’d noticed me almost immediately. I thought I was being super sneaky, but I had no idea what I was doing. Really, I was lucky the camp guards hadn’t spotted me. Abigail soon fixed that, though. She taught me how to effectively hide and how to move without being seen.’ 

‘And they taught you how to rescue people?’ 

Delia nodded, ‘They taught me everything they knew. How to strategize an escape, how to make and place small explosives and distraction devices, how to determine likely escapees, how to contact the network of people that would transport them further north. But most importantly, Terence taught me how to drive and Abigail taught me how to care for people.’ 

‘I find it very hard to believe that you haven’t always been a caring person.’ 

Delia smiled softly at that, ‘You’d be surprised. I think I let my righteousness cloud my empathy quite a lot when I was young. And you’re unfortunately well acquainted with my temper. I’m not just talking about empathy, though, I’m talking about caring for people with trauma. I’m still nowhere near as skilled as she was, but without Abigail’s extremely careful, patient training there’s simply no way I could have done the work I did.’ 

‘Was she a trained counsellor?’ 

‘She’d had some training before they came to the UK. They’d emigrated from Trinidad just before the Reckoning, and they escaped to the Bloc early on. But they were horrified by what they heard about the camps, and wanted to do more, so they decided to rescue people. And no one really trained them, I don’t think. Well, Terence was already a skilled driver, and they got lessons from someone in the Underground on the explosives, but other than that they were just badasses who figured it out as they went along.’

‘The Underground? You worked with the Underground?’ Patsy was both horrified and intrigued. She’d heard so much about the splinter group whose incredibly violent methods for fighting the Redemptionists had made even the Bloc disavow them, but she’d never met anyone who’d worked with them. 

Delia shook her head adamantly, ‘No, we were solidly independent. They’d just gotten lessons early on.’ 

Patsy nodded, feeling oddly disappointed, ‘And the three of you made a good team, I take it?’ 

‘Oh very much so. We rescued people from camps all over England and Wales. As time went on, they gave me a larger and larger role. Eventually, I was doing all of the reconnaissance on my own. I think the entire time they knew deep down they were training me to take over. We worked together, the three of us, for about a year and a half before they told me that Abigail was pregnant and they were going to return to the Bloc to raise their child. They offered to bring me with them, to help me get settled, but I didn’t want to settle into life in the Bloc. I wanted to keep rescuing people.’ 

‘All on your own?’

Delia chuckled, ‘Well, I was young and headstrong and thought I could take on the world alone. So I drove them to the border and got them on a transport, and then I set out on my own.’ 

‘Do you know what happened to them?’ 

‘Oh yes, I visit them sometimes when I’m on leave. Abigail ended up having healthy twins and they settled in Edinburgh. She’s a counsellor, Terence was placed as a bus driver, and the kids are, gosh, almost ten now. And absolutely fawned over by the entire community.’ Delia looked so content as she talked about it.

‘Do you ever regret not going with them? Settling down in the Bloc?’ 

Delia shook her head, ‘Absolutely not. I had no reason to settle down. But I _am_ glad that my presence allowed them to do it without feeling that they were abandoning the cause. Without making it so there was no one out rescuing people.’ She sighed heavily, ‘I _do_ regret that I wasn’t able to do the same when I stopped.’ She looked suddenly distant and forlorn. 

Patsy felt a jolt of surprise at just how much it hurt to see Delia beating herself up and selling herself so short, after how much she had done to help people. After she had spent _years_ getting people out of camps. She leaned forward and gently placed her hand on Delia’s. The brunette started slightly, and looked up into Patsy’s eyes. Patsy smiled softly, ‘Not everyone is lucky enough to happen upon the perfect replacement hiding in the bushes. It doesn’t sound like the kind of work one could do forever. And it must have been especially hard to do it all on your own.’ 

Delia gave Patsy a small, grateful smile, ‘It _was_ hard. Extremely hard. There were just so many things to manage…supply runs and reconnaissance and planning. Placing the van for escapes was particularly tough, though I got quite good at disguising it. But hardest of all was after I rescued someone. Providing them the support they needed while also cooking and contacting the network and keeping us moving. It was exhausting. But I was only alone for about six months before I found Winifred.’ 

Seeing that Delia had perked up slightly, Patsy began sliding her hand off of Delia’s, but before she got very far the brunette used her thumb to gently hook Patsy’s, keeping it in place. Patsy looked down at it, and then up at Delia, who smiled and cocked her head slightly to the side. Patsy smiled back and scooted forward a bit so she could keep her hand on Delia’s without leaning. Patsy marvelled at how wonderful it felt to just be sitting there holding Delia’s hand in hers. It was so simple, yet felt so profoundly warm. After a moment, she cleared her throat and re-focused on the conversation. 

‘Ah yes, Winifred mentioned that she just kind of stayed with you.’ 

Delia chuckled at that, ‘I suppose that’s pretty accurate. Winifred was different than anyone I’d ever rescued. I’m still slightly convinced she picked up the stone by accident. I almost had to run out onto the path and grab her after the distraction devices went off. And then, well, it was almost immediately obvious that she had absolutely no interest in the Bloc.’ 

‘Is picking up the stone how you knew to rescue someone?’ 

‘Well, we knew from watching them before…for up to a week sometimes. But it was how we confirmed the plan. If they were willing to take the risk to pick it up, and with so little time to process and consider, then we knew they would come with us. If they didn’t, well…then we were in big, big trouble. If they alerted someone or they were marching and the trailing guard saw the stone, then there was an immediate alarm and the area was aggressively searched. Chances of getting caught in that case were extraordinarily high because the van wasn’t yet in place. That’s why it was so important to know how to observe and select people. If you were wrong, it could be disastrous.’ 

‘And were you ever wrong?’ 

Delia winced slightly, ‘Only once. Luckily it was when I was still with the Bissettes. Abigail got me out, but only just barely. She got a pretty nasty cut on her leg and I got shot.’ 

‘ _What?_ ’ Patsy felt her heart constrict and she couldn’t hide the horror from her voice. 

‘Well, grazed, really. In the thigh. Hurt like the Dickens, though it left a nice scar, so that’s something.’ 

Patsy was a bit aghast. How on earth could Delia be so nonchalant about getting _shot_? 

‘You got shot and then just kept doing it?’

‘Well, not right away. Abigail decided to take the training a bit slower and took over selection duties again for a while. Terence and I focused on driving skills until I had full mobility back.’ 

That hadn’t been exactly what Patsy had meant, but she realized that, for Delia, apparently the risk of death was always just a natural part of the equation. She supposed that the Welshwoman simply couldn’t do the kind of work she did if she let it bother her. This was, after all, the woman who had injected herself with the Reaper virus. Patsy thought about the amount of comfort with risk Delia’s life must entail, and then she considered Winifred, who seemed to thrive on certainty. 

‘And what was it like, working with Winifred? I imagine it was quite the change.’ 

Delia chuckled at that, ‘That’s quite the understatement.’ She paused to consider for a moment, ‘If I’m being honest, Winifred wouldn’t have been my first choice for a partner. I was hoping for someone to share the emotional load and Winifred, well…that isn’t her strength. I’m not sure how much drive for independence she had _before_ the camps, but her time there certainly drained it from her. When I first met her she wasn’t really capable of doing anything independently. She would have been eaten alive in the Bloc by herself. But over the course of our time together, she grew so much and we developed a productive working relationship. She’s earnest and hardworking and with proper scaffolding she’s capable of strategic brilliance. She’s also remarkably cheerful, which is always appreciated in our overwhelmingly serious and stressful profession.’ 

Patsy slid her fingers around Delia’s palm so she could hold her hand properly, giving it a soft squeeze, ‘But you still had to make all of the difficult decisions?’ 

Delia nodded, looking tired, ‘When we ran into Phyllis and Barbara and they offered us jobs as undercover agents, I knew Winifred didn’t want to, but I was so worn down. It was exhausting, having the responsibility of choosing who was and wasn’t rescued. Of constantly worrying I’d chosen the wrong person. Wondering if we were going to be betrayed. If more deserving people were being left behind. I just wanted to turn over that responsibility for a little while…or at least share it. And to feel like my actions were fitting into some kind of larger picture. So I accepted. I think Winifred considered leaving, but I suspect the thought of being on her own in the Bloc was too much for her. I still feel a little bad for trapping her in a profession she doesn’t particularly enjoy.’ 

‘You didn’t _trap_ her anywhere, Deels. Just because independence is difficult and uncomfortable for her doesn’t mean she’s not an adult who’s capable of making her own decisions.’ 

Delia looked thoughtful, ‘That’s true, I suppose, though I _do_ feel a bit responsible for her. I think you may be underestimating just how much structure she can need. Regardless, she’s not what I regret. Mainly, I just feel terrible we left such a void when we stopped. I still think sometimes about how many more people we could have rescued.’ 

‘How many people _did_ you rescue, over your three years?’ 

‘Seventy-three, including Winifred,’ Delia responded without hesitation, ‘Thirty nine with the Bissettes, eleven on my own and twenty three with Winifred.’ 

Patsy’s jaw dropped, ‘ _Seventy-three_? That’s _remarkable_. Delia, you have absolutely nothing to feel bad about. You gave all of those people a chance at a new life. And you’ve done so much good over the last eight years. The Reaper virus antidote alone has saved _thousands_. And you wouldn’t have been able to do _anything_ if you’d gotten yourself caught due to exhaustion. You have _nothing_ to feel terrible about.’ 

Delia smiled a bit wistfully, ‘Thanks for saying so, Pats. I just feel a little guilty sometimes. And often spy work feels kind of…nebulous, I suppose. We carry out actions and don’t always get to see the results. We just have to trust it fits into a larger picture. It requires more inherent trust in the system than I’m really comfortable with. I want to be doing the most good possible at all times.’ 

‘And that’s one of the things I appreciate about you, but sometimes you get to think about yourself too. What _you_ want. What would make _you_ happy. That matters too.’ 

Delia smirked, ‘Do I detect a Julienne-ism?’ 

Patsy chuckled, ‘Guilty as charged. But it doesn’t mean she’s wrong. In fact, quite the opposite, usually.’ 

Delia looked down and squeezed Patsy’s hand, ‘Thanks, Pats.’ 

Patsy gazed at Delia, feeling her heart swell with admiration. What Delia had accomplished was truly astounding…and she had done all of it with an unparalleled conviction. As if risking her life on a daily basis in order to save others was the only possible way she could have spent her time. Patsy couldn’t quite believe she had managed to earn the affection of someone so extraordinary. 

She was well aware that this was an opportune moment to share her story, but it was still so _hard_. She released Delia’s hand and picked at an invisible thread on her blanket. Delia waited patiently, only leaning over slightly to place her now-empty glass next to Patsy’s on the end table. Finally, Patsy pursed her lips and, shifting uncomfortably, asked the question she hoped Delia would recognize as more of a statement. 

‘During your time, with the seventy three you rescued, were any of them ever Redeemers?’ 

Delia’s eyebrows shot up, ‘Redeemers? No...I don’t even think I _saw_ a Redeemer until my spying days, usually as security at functions or Council buildings. I didn’t think they ever left the camps before their placements.’ 

Patsy smiled sadly, training her eyes firmly on the blanket in front of her, ‘Actually, you saw them all the time. They were the guards.’

Delia gasped softly, ‘But…they weren’t wearing the purple piping.’ 

‘Different uniforms, same people.’ Patsy realized her voice sounded clinical and empty, ‘Council security was…well, a promotion, I suppose.’ 

Patsy started slightly as she felt Delia’s warm hand envelop her own. Her voice, when it came, held no judgement. 

‘Is that what you were, Pats? A Redeemer?’ 

Patsy stared at their joined hands for a moment before looking up and into the most caring eyes she could ever imagine. She felt her resolve to share begin to crumble. She didn’t want to be complicated and scarred and broken. For Delia, she just wanted to be…simple. To fill her life with ease and light and laughter. Instead, she was going to bring darkness. 

She decided to ignore Delia’s question. The answer was probably obvious anyway. For now, she needed to try to explain. 

‘I was sent to the camps as soon as they opened. They were still getting off the ground, really. By the time you were rescuing people, there was much more of an infrastructure. They had realized people in the camps could be a free labour force, so now there’s a segment of camp residents who are just workers.’

‘Like Winifred?’ Delia offered.

Patsy nodded, ‘Undoubtedly. But at the beginning, it wasn’t like that. It was entirely focused on, well, indoctrination. From the moment you set foot in the camps, their sole focus was to tear you down and re-build you in the Redemptionist image. Every single moment of every day you were hit with a barrage of voices calling you an embarrassment, saying that you had shamed your family or their memories, that you had betrayed the very deepest parts of yourself. But there was a chance for absolution, for salvation. You could embrace the Redemptionist message, become a productive member of society, earn respect and clear your family’s name. To be honest, I didn’t require much convincing. I’d just turned fifteen and I’d lost my mother and sister and I suppose my father as well…in all the ways that were important, at least. I was so lost and alone, the training offered me a way to feel connected, to feel like I had a family again, like I was making someone proud.’ 

Delia squeezed Patsy’s hand and scooted in a bit closer, placing her other hand gently on Patsy’s knee. Patsy was astounded by how comforting Delia’s touch was. 

‘And I _did_ make the instructors proud. It was able to use all of the training my mother had given me and build on it. I _excelled_ at combat training, quickly becoming the most skilled in my cohort. When they decided to start the Redeemer program, I volunteered for it without question. I was so eager to serve the cause, to give something back to these people who had given me a sense of purpose, who had welcomed me with open arms. When I was little, my mother had taught me that the values of the Redemptionists were unjust…a perversion, but at the camp, they made sure I knew otherwise. They made the Bloc and those who supported it seem like the greatest danger the world had ever known. The Bloc wanted to sow discord, cause needless violence, disrupt the natural order…it became clear to me that my mother hadn’t known the whole picture. They needed to be stopped. But I was never given the chance to go out into the field…cohort after cohort came and went, but I was always held back. They kept saying they needed me to stay and serve as an example for others at training. Because my skills were so exemplary.’ 

‘But you didn’t believe them?’ Delia’s voice was soft. 

Patsy shook her head, ‘They had competent trainers, and they could have officially designated me as an instructor if they felt that strongly. I tried so hard to figure out what I had done wrong. I never did.’ She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, ‘The longer I stayed in camp, the more savage the psychological training techniques became. That’s when I really learned what I was capable of. What _years_ of intensive training had accomplished. I was so eager to prove that I deserved to be elevated, to be sent on, that I…I lost myself even further. I did some brutal things to my fellow trainees, never inflicting permanent damage, but still, viciously brutal. And it wasn’t out of self-defence or fear. I inflicted incredible pain out of a single-minded desire to prove that I was worthy. But it was never enough. I was never sent out on a mission.’ 

Patsy expected Delia to flinch away, to release her hand, but she didn’t. Instead, she held on firmly, gently rubbing the thumb of her other hand against Patsy’s knee. Patsy didn’t have the courage to look up into Delia’s eyes as she continued. 

‘Everything changed when they decided to make Redeemers guard the camp workers. They’d only recently decided to institute a worker program, so I suppose it seemed natural to have their crack trainees take over security duty. Before that, I had only ever interacted with fellow Redeemers or occasionally the lower level soldiers who would challenge us for position, but now…now I was seeing people who were being brought in as forced labour, people deemed _irredeemable_. I expected them to be the unnatural, disruptive forces I’d been told all people who didn’t embrace the Redemptionist way were. But they were just…people. Scared and lonely and lost and _human_. And my fellow guards were so very cruel to them. Beating them for the slightest misdemeanours, or sometimes just because they were bored, or tired, or training had gone poorly the day before. It struck me as unequivocally _wrong_ and it made me begin to doubt everything I had been told. I didn’t want to be like them. But I also didn’t stop them. I wasn’t officially in a position of authority, but as the longest-tenured, most skilled Redeemer, my opinion carried a certain weight. I could have told them to stop. I even had the skills to _make_ them stop. But I didn’t. I was so filled with uncertainty and fear that I just…let them. Stood aside and watched as they brutalized innocent people.’

She took a shaky breath, her heart beginning to race. Delia squeezed her hand. 

‘I began talking to some of the labourers. Quietly. When I could get them alone. Learning what their lives were like, why they had been sent to the camps, what was happening in the outside world. I was horrified by what I heard. People didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Terrified of expressing dissent, taken from their families, basically starved. I began trying to sneak some of my rations to them, but I was a fool and didn’t know how to do it in ways that would keep people safe. One day, a woman was found with the wrapper from one of my ration bars. She was accused of theft and executed. And I…I didn’t do anything. I was so, so scared of what they would do to me if they found out what I'd been doing, and I let my fear lead to the death of an innocent woman. The incident drastically affected my training, making me weaker and more hesitant. I didn’t want to _be_ this anymore. I didn’t want to be part of a system this cruel and vicious. Others began to notice, and shortly after I was challenged for the first time.’ 

‘Challenged?’ Delia sounded confused.

Patsy reminded herself there was no reason Delia would know what that meant. 

‘When I became a Redeemer, when they first started, you just had to volunteer, but shortly thereafter, they decided to make becoming a Redeemer kind of…ritualized, I suppose. Redeemers were the unquestioned elite of the soldier class, and if a lower-level soldier wanted to advance to that level, they had to challenge a Redeemer to a fight. Hand-to-hand…only batons as weapons. If they won, they would become Redeemers. If they lost, well, once they recovered they were destined to remain lower level forever. You only got one chance. In all of my time there, no one had ever dared to challenge me. Everyone knew how skilled I was, that I had basically been training intensively every day for almost two years; it wasn’t worth the risk. But after the incident, I think people could sense my weakness. So one day a beast of a man, built like a barn door and obviously ambitious, challenged me. I think he knew that he would be top dog if he were the one who took me down. And he almost did. My heart just wasn’t in it, and he was so strong. But then, he twisted my arm incredibly painfully and something just…snapped. All of my training took over and I…well…I don’t remember exactly what happened. I just sort of went into a trance, but when I came to, it was to his anguished screams. I’d absolutely ripped him to shreds; he was just a mangled, bloody mass. Apparently, he’d tried to call the fight off and I’d just…ignored him. I hadn’t even been consciously aware. My fellow Redeemers just stood staring at me as he was carted away, terrified, I think, of how ruthless I’d been.’ 

Patsy’s vision began to blur as her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away, regaining control.

‘Looking down at my hands, I fully realized what I had become, what I had been all along. Someone who just ignored injustice, who didn’t speak up against it, who perpetuated it. Someone capable of inflicting terrible damage to another human being. Of cruelty, of savagery. I decided then and there I had to leave. The risks of running just didn’t matter. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore. So the next time I was on field guard duty, I just kind of…walked away. They sent a whole battalion after me, but they’d trained me too well. Hiding from them was easy. I arrived in the Bloc on my seventeenth birthday and vowed that I would _never_ again lose control. And I hadn’t. Until a week ago.’ 

Patsy took a deep, shaky breath, ‘If…If I had hurt you, Delia…I don’t know if I would have been able to live with myself. I’m sorry I closed off. I was just trying to protect you. It isn’t safe to be around me.’ 

‘You _didn’t_ hurt me, Pats. You regained control. You stopped yourself.’ 

‘But what if it happened again?’ Patsy croaked out.

‘Pats-‘

Patsy cut her off, suddenly not wanting to hear Delia’s assurances, her voice getting strained and desperate, ‘My training isn’t something I can _unlearn_ , Delia. It’s always there. Waiting. Dangerous. People recognized that when I arrived in the Bloc. I told the first few people I met about my past, and they _knew_. They knew how unsafe it is to know me. I got kicked out of my first housing placement…my transitional hosts had a young daughter and they just couldn’t take the risk. I lost my first job placement too. They couldn’t take the risk that I would snap. I learned early on that people are more secure if they stay away from me.’

‘Patsy, I’m so sorry that happened to you,’ Delia’s voiced sounded strained, like she was holding back her emotions. 

As the memories flowed back, Patsy struggled to control her responses. She tried so hard to fight the swell of emotions, but she felt herself losing her grip. 

‘But the worst part…the worst part was knowing that those people were all _right_. That all of the fear and alienation was justified because…because the Redemptionists made me a _monster_ , and deep down that’s all I’ll ever be.’ She finally completely broke down, tears clouding her vision as sobs wracked her body. 

She felt Delia release her hand, and for one brief, terrifying moment she thought the brunette had left. Had decided that Patsy wasn’t worth _this_. But then she felt Delia’s warm body press against her side, her strong arms enveloping Patsy in a comforting embrace. Her soft voice cutting through the clamour of her thoughts. 

‘No Pats, you’re not a monster. Not on the surface, not deep down.’ 

Patsy leaned into Delia’s embrace, nestling her head into the brunette’s chest as Delia kneeled on the bed. Her voice came out choked by sobs, ‘You have no idea what I’m capable of.’ 

Delia took a deep breath, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Patsy’s head, ‘You’re wrong, Pats. I know _exactly_ how much warmth and kindness you’re capable of. I’ve seen it with my own eyes over and over again. I don’t care what you did before, when you were lost and vulnerable and scared. It doesn’t matter. You’ve overcome so much and you did it all on your own. I’ve seen the caring, empathetic, loving person you are now, and that’s what matters, Pats. Who you are _now_. Who you’ve spent the last eleven years fashioning yourself into. And that’s a truly, amazingly wonderful woman who spends her life helping people. Deep down, _that’s_ who you _are_. And I’m so proud to know you. And so lucky to have you care about me.’ 

Patsy let Delia’s words wash over her. She couldn’t believe Delia hadn’t run away in disgust or fear. Patsy slipped her arms around Delia and clung to her, to make sure she was real, that she was _there_. In response, the brunette placed another soft kiss in her hair and murmured, ‘Let it out, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.’

And for the first time since she was a child, Patsy did what she had thought she would never do again: she sobbed in someone’s arms. Someone who made her feel safe and valued and…loved. 

They stayed like that for a long while, Patsy letting out a decade of pent-up fear and loneliness and self-loathing as Delia held her, stroking her hair and assuring her that, despite the darkness of her past, there was hope for a brighter future. 

 

 

 

Eventually, Patsy sat up, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She excused herself and made her way to her bureau for a handkerchief. When she came back, she sat on the edge of the bed, feeling like crawling back into Delia’s arms would seem too…vulnerable. Delia seemed to understand the change in dynamic, and came to sit next to her. 

They sat there for a few moments in silence. Patsy felt slightly awkward and embarrassed for having been so emotionally bare. She felt a bit…raw. She shot Delia a slightly watery smile, ‘I imagine this is all old hat for you. Comforting a stricken camp survivor.’ 

Delia responded instantly, ‘No, this isn’t like all the other times. This is different. Because I didn’t care about all those other people like I care about you.’ 

She said it with such simple conviction and Patsy felt her heart lurch forward. She couldn’t quite believe that Delia could still care about her. Patsy had no idea what she had done to earn the right to have such a remarkable, supportive, beautiful person decide that _she_ was somehow special. 

She felt herself inching closer to being ready to let go of the last of her reservations, to allow her feelings for Delia unrestricted access to her heart. But her emotional rawness activated the small, nagging voice that had been there since the night of the pistachio conversation. That remembered Delia’s reaction, her discomfort. She knew it shouldn’t matter, but right now her vulnerability felt magnified.

Looking down at her lap, she almost whispered, ‘Did you care about Mrs Thomas like that?’ 

She was surprised to look up and see a slight smile on Delia’s face, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to ask about Mrs Thomas. No, Pats, I didn’t care about her like I care about you.’ She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands, ‘It’s just that on that mission I badly misread her convictions, with tragic results. I reacted so strongly that evening when Winifred mentioned her because…well, because I feel a tremendous amount of guilt about how that situation played out.’ 

Patsy’s voice was soft, ‘It seems like guilt is quite the motivating factor for you.’ 

Delia chuckled, ‘I see we can add observant to the list of your traits. I suppose you’re getting to see some of my dark underbelly too.’ 

Patsy reached out and took Delia’s hand, ‘Well I look forward to getting to know it even better.’ 

‘I’d like that very much.’ Taking a deep breath Delia looked up at Patsy, her eyes radiating sincerity, ‘Patsy, I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.’ 

‘Delia…’ Patsy reached up and gently caressed Delia’s cheek. She could feel herself falling into the brunette’s hopeful blue eyes, her final barriers coming down as she leaned slowly forward. 

Suddenly, a cheery voice rang out as footsteps approached the tent, ‘Knock knock! Patsy, are you in here? Because if you’re not, you might have disappeared. I’ve checked all of the storage tents…and the medical tent, though there wasn’t a refugee signal, so I was fairly sure you weren’t there.’ Winifred poked her head in and immediately began to stumble over her words, ‘Oh, Delia, you’re here too. You and Patsy…together. That’s…that’s wonderful. You know what? I’ll just come back later…or not at all. There’s no real reason I’d need to. It’s not even important…I’m sorry…I’ll just go.’ 

Patsy had whipped her right hand away from Delia’s cheek the moment she’d heard Winifred’s voice, but she kept firm grasp of Delia’s right hand with her left.

Watching Winifred turn bright red as she flailed, Patsy couldn’t stop a little smile from creeping across her face. She couldn’t fathom why the small woman was so incredibly flustered. She decided to save her.

‘It’s perfectly alright Winifred. There’s no need to apologize. Was there something you needed from me?’ 

‘Well…are you sure?’ 

Patsy glanced at Delia, noting with some amusement that the Welshwoman was sitting rigid with her eyes closed and her jaw tightly clenched. She appeared to be taking deep, controlled breaths. 

The redhead looked back up at Winifred and nodded, ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t have been searching all of camp for me if it wasn’t important.’ 

Winifred stepped nervously into the tent and cleared her throat, ‘I wanted to talk to you about ordering some electronics through HQ…but not for the camp or anything like that. For a separate project that I’m working on myself…that’s a secret, of sorts.’ 

Patsy raised an eyebrow, ‘You’re coming to me to request that I abuse the system in order to obtain electronics for you for a secret personal project that you can’t tell me about?’

Winifred looked down at her feet, ‘Well…yes…though when you put it that way –‘

‘Is the project important to you?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ 

‘Do you plan on making a habit of these kinds of requests?’

‘No.’ 

Patsy squinted her eyes and then took a deep breath, ‘Alright. Just this once. You’ve fixed enough of our machines, I think HQ probably owes you whatever electronics you need for your project. Get me a list and I’ll place the order for you.’ 

Winifred’s face broke out into a toothy smile, ‘Really? Oh, thank you so much, Patsy. That’s really wonderful of you.’ 

Patsy shrugged, ‘It’s no trouble. And thank you for actually asking me rather than just sneaking behind my back. I think you’ll find it’s amazing what you can get if you simply ask.’ She looked pointedly at Delia during this final statement, her jokingly accusatory look greeted with an amused smirk. 

‘Yes…well…’ Winifred, the awkward flush returning to her face, began backing slowly out of the tent, ‘I’ll get you that list. But right now I’m going to go…somewhere else.’ And with that she whirled around and scurried rapidly out. 

Patsy cocked her head in bemusement, ‘She really is quite the odd fruit, isn’t she?’

Delia nodded as she turned back from watching Winifred make her escape, ‘Though that was…unusually odd.’ 

Patsy smirked down at Delia, rubbing small circles on the back of her hand with her thumb, ‘I must say, you didn’t look too pleased when she first came in.’ 

The brunette looked down bashfully, ‘Well, I rather liked the direction things were heading before she interrupted.’ 

‘Did you now?’ 

‘Don’t tease, Patsy, it’s unbecoming.’

‘Well, I never want to be _unbecoming_ , so might I suggest that we pick up where we left off. I believe my right hand was here,’ she placed it gently on Delia’s cheek.

Delia closed her eyes and nestled her cheek into Patsy’s hand, ‘Mmmhmm’. 

Patsy had to remind herself to breathe. Leaning forward, she placed her forehead against Delia’s and closed her eyes, relishing the closeness. Delia felt so warm and _safe_. 

‘How did I ever get lucky enough to find you?’ Patsy’s voice was almost a whisper. 

Delia released a contented sigh and nuzzled her nose against Patsy’s. When she spoke, Patsy could feel Delia’s breath against her lips. 

‘I’m the lucky one, Pats…to have found someone so brave and caring and beautiful and –‘ 

Following instincts she didn’t know she had, Patsy suddenly tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips to Delia’s. For a moment, the brunette simply inhaled in surprise before softly returning Patsy’s gentle kiss. Patsy marvelled at the rush of warmth that surged through her. This felt so perfect and fizzy and… _right_.

Suddenly, a bolt of panic shot through her. She had been so rude. She pulled back, worried, ‘Oh gosh, Delia, I’m so sorry, I cut you off.’ 

Delia released a breathy, ‘It doesn’t matter’ as she surged forward, hungrily pressing her lips against Patsy’s. She brought her own hand to Patsy’s cheek, lightly stroking Patsy’s jaw as she pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss. Patsy felt like her heart might explode. She allowed herself to become completely lost in the multiple sensations: Delia’s lips and tongue against hers, her hand caressing Patsy’s cheek, the other gripping her waist, pulling her closer. Patsy snaked her left arm around Delia’s shoulder, almost pulling the smaller woman into her lap. She felt Delia smile into the kiss. 

Patsy broke away, looking amused, ‘What? Why are you smiling?’ 

Delia’s eyes twinkled as she beamed up at Patsy, ‘It just feels so amazing to finally be able to do this with you. I’ve…well, I’ve been waiting for you to get here.’ 

Patsy looked down, slightly abashed, ‘Thank you for being patient with me.’ 

Delia hooked a finger under Patsy’s chin, gently lifting her head up so she could look deeply and earnestly into Patsy’s eyes, ‘Always. You’re worth it.’ 

Delia leaned forward, once again claiming Patsy’s lips with her own, and they picked up right where they had left off. Patsy couldn’t imagine any place could possibly feel more wondrous than being wrapped in Delia’s arms, kissing the woman who, fairly astoundingly, liked her in spite of everything. 

Patsy was so caught up in the moment that she almost didn’t hear the refugee arrival signal and the unwelcome dot-dash-dash-dot that summoned her away from Delia’s impossibly perfect embrace. She pulled back, resting her forehead on Delia’s. 

‘I’m afraid I’m being beckoned away to other far-less-alluring responsibilities.’ 

Delia made a small noise of consternation as she continued to press light kisses to Patsy’s lips, ‘I, for one, think that you should ignore it.’ 

‘Deels,’ Patsy giggled, ‘I can’t suddenly become a reprobate because I’ve discovered how heavenly kissing you is. What kind of message would that send?’ 

Delia let out a small sigh of defeat, ‘I suppose we _do_ have to set a good example.’ 

Patsy reluctantly disentangled herself from Delia and stood. 

‘Drat!’ Patsy looked down at the long-forgotten glasses on the end table, ‘Deels, do you mind going to the kitchen tent and washing out these glasses? I’m not actually supposed to have alcohol in the tent and there certainly shouldn’t be any residue in Trixie’s glass.’ 

Delia feigned consternation, ‘I see how it is, we kiss one time and you already have me doing the washing up.’

Patsy stepped forward, her lips turned up in a small half smile, and wrapped her arms around Delia’s shoulders, placing a light kiss on the tip of her nose, ‘You’re adorable when you’re being cheeky.’ 

Delia narrowed her eyes, ‘Flattery won’t get you out of _everything_ , Patience Mount.’ 

‘Flattery might not, but will this?’ Patsy captured Delia’s lips in a deep kiss. 

Delia kept her eyes closed as Patsy pulled away, a satisfied smile spreading across her face, ‘I feel like answering honestly might put me at a distinct disadvantage in the future.’ 

Patsy laughed, an unbelievable feeling of contentment coursing through her. 

They stepped out of the tent holding hands and just stood there for a few moments looking giddily at each other. 

Eventually, Delia gave Patsy’s hand a small squeeze, ‘I’ll see you at dinner?’ 

‘Yes.’ Patsy beamed back. 

Delia took a quick step forward and stood on tiptoe to press one final, quick peck on Patsy’s lips before finally releasing Patsy’s hand and turning towards the kitchen tent. 

Patsy took a few steps towards the medical tent before turning to watch Delia make her way through the corridor of tents. Her heart leapt when she saw Delia suddenly give an excited little skip before resuming her normal gait. She knew how the Welshwoman felt. She was practically overflowing with a bubbly happiness that felt like it might burst out of her. 

Delia had learned the most shameful parts of her past, and she hadn’t run. She liked Patsy anyway. She had told her she was warm and caring and _whole_ , and she had said it with such conviction Patsy had actually believed her. And Delia had _kissed_ her. Patsy felt herself blush as she thought about how warm and wonderful kissing Delia had been. How much she wanted to do it again. 

As she made her way to the medical tent, a joyous, beaming smile spread across her face. She’d taken a risk and opened herself up and Delia had _stayed_ and held her and kissed her, and Patsy’s world had never felt so filled with possibility.


	16. Delia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a little _Eight Days_ -inspired hiatus, we return to Camp Poplar. Enjoy!

Delia looked out over the small crew assembled in the morning light as she gestured towards the pole that had been erected between two housing tents the day before. 

‘Alright, so, Peter, for you and your security team, today is more of the same. Keep erecting these poles at ten metre intervals in a grid pattern. Please remember to install them so that the hooks to support the sprayers are all at the same height. Getting the tension right on the nets is going to be tricky, and it’s imperative that all of the sprayers are level.’ She turned to face the rest of the crew, ‘As for the rest of us, we’ll be going along installing hoses and the sprayers on the poles they put up yesterday. Please be careful when connecting the input hose to the sprayer valve. That part of the system is going to be under a lot of pressure, and we don’t want any leaks. Also, be sure all electrical junctions are in the waterproof boxes. We can’t have the system shorting out as soon as it turns on.’

Everyone nodded attentively except for Patsy, who was simply eyeing Delia mischievously. Delia felt herself beginning to flush under the weight of Patsy’s knowing gaze, and gratefully handed the reins over to Barbara. 

‘I do believe that Barbara has information on our teams for today…Babs?’ 

‘Yes, well, we’re mixing it up a bit today. Dr Noakes, welcome to the incendiary project work team. You’ll be working with Winifred, Trixie will be with Delia, and Patsy, you’ll be working with me. Dr Noakes, if you get called away for any reason, Phyllis will replace you.’ 

Delia nodded and faced the group again, ‘And I believe with that, you should be ready to get started. We’ll see everyone again at lunch.’ 

The group began to slowly disperse, gathering up the tools they would need for the morning’s work. 

Delia looked around for Patsy, hoping to wish the redhead a good morning, but as usual she had almost immediately vanished. The brunette smirked to herself in anticipation, knowing Patsy’s game quite well by this point. She would undoubtedly see her soon enough. But first, she needed to check in with Winifred. She sought out the small spy, pulling her aside for a moment, ‘Winifred, are you alright working with Chummy today? I know she can be a bit…clumsy.’ 

Winifred glanced around nervously, ‘What? No, it’s no problem, of course. She’s wonderfully tall and all she’ll really have to do is hold things in place while I check everything’s level and make connections. Speaking of which, I have to run so I can grab my lucky soldering iron before Trixie gets hold of it.’ And with that she jetted away without so much as a goodbye.

Delia watched her leave with a quizzical look. She turned and sidled up to Barbara, who was placing all of the tools she would need into a bag to haul over to her work site. 

‘Barbara, have you noticed Winifred being a bit odd lately? Any time I try to talk to her she runs away as quickly as possible. And she’s been profoundly awkward in the tent in the evening.’ 

Barbara looked up from where she was rooting around in the bin of brass plumbing fittings, ‘Oh, that. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I think she’s just having a bit of gay panic. Apparently, she had no idea you were a lesbian, so the last week has been a bit…surprising, I think.’ 

Delia’s eyebrows shot up, ‘She didn’t know I was gay? How is that possible? I’m not particularly subtle. And why did she think both of my seduction missions were with women?’ 

‘Those points have been made. I suspect she just never thought about it at all.’ 

Delia paused to consider this. Had Winifred really been caught by surprise? Did she think Delia had been being deliberately deceitful? She glanced over towards where the small spy was trying to re-claim her lucky soldering iron from a thoroughly amused Trixie, ‘Should I talk to her about it?’ 

Barbara stood up and looked over at Winifred pensively, ‘Hmm…No, I think I’d give her some time to process everything first. I’m sure she’ll bring it up in her own unique way when she’s ready to talk about it.’ 

Delia furrowed her brow, ‘Well, as long as you’re certain. I don’t want her to think I’ve been purposely hiding anything from her.’ 

‘I think deep down she knows that. And I’m certain. If you bring it up before she’s ready, you’ll scare her off.’ 

Delia nodded hesitantly. She knew Winifred could be skittish, but she did wonder whether it was better be up front and clear the air. Though Winifred had obviously been talking with Barbara about it, so she supposed she should trust Barbara’s assessment.

Barbara’s voice cut through her thoughts, ‘Speaking of scaring her off, do you think it’s alright that I put her with Dr Noakes? Winifred’s often lost in her notebook anyway, so if the two of them are a little less efficient, then it won’t put us too far behind schedule.’ 

Delia considered this. Last night over dinner, Chummy had rather excitedly announced that she wanted to ‘see what all the fuss was about’ and help out with the incendiary project. Both Delia and Barbara were honestly a bit nervous about the idea. Though she was a thoroughly caring and competent medical professional, Chummy was more than a bit uncoordinated, and they both feared that a job that involved a combination of ladders and small parts probably wasn’t working to her strengths. Their desire to not hurt her feelings won out in the end, however, so she was joining them for their work today. 

She turned to her fellow spy, ‘I think they’ll work together swimmingly. Though if efficiency was your primary concern, you should have put yourself with Trixie. You two are a wonder when you work together.’ 

Barbara shot her a sideways glance, ‘I think you know why I couldn’t do that. My own efficiency isn’t the only thing to take into consideration.’ 

Delia blushed slightly. The first two days of the project, she and Patsy had tried to work together, but found themselves getting frequently…distracted. While Patsy had been nervous to initiate physical contact before, now that they had crossed that line, it seemed to have activated a certain roguishness in the redhead. Delia tried her hardest to maintain an air of professionalism, but then Patsy would grab her rear as she was reaching to join wires to ‘support her so she didn’t fall’ or lift her into an embrace to ‘help her down the ladder’, and it was simply too much temptation for Delia to resist. For every fifteen minutes of solid work they got done, there was at least that much time devoted to flirting or kissing or just staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. When she thought about it afterwards, Delia realized that it was a bit embarrassing for two grown women to be behaving that way, but in the moment it just felt…perfect. 

After the second day, astounded at just how little they were accomplishing, Barbara had rather haltingly suggested that perhaps alternative pairings were in order. As a result, for the last two days Delia had been working with Trixie, and while she found the arrangement much less rewarding, she had to admit it was significantly more productive. 

Delia cleared her throat, a bit embarrassed, ‘Yes, well, speaking of efficiency, I’d best be off to catch Trixie. Our goal is two grids this morning, so there’s a quite a bit of work to do.’ 

Barbara nodded, picked up her bag of tools and began making her way towards her work sector. After a few steps she turned back, her eyes twinkling a bit in amusement, a faint smile on her lips, ‘Oh, and Delia, do send Patsy my way fairly quickly. This work’s much more difficult to do alone.’ 

‘I’m not sure what you mean, Barbara. I have absolutely no idea where Patsy even is right now.’ Delia retorted playfully. 

Barbara raised an eyebrow, ‘Mmmhmm…right. Well, _if_ you should happen to see her, be sure to tell her I’m eagerly awaiting her arrival. And I’ll see you this afternoon?’ 

‘I wouldn’t miss it.’ 

Delia smiled to herself as she watched Barbara walk away. The two of them had settled into a routine of morning work with the entire crew followed by afternoons of preparing for the next day by constructing sprayers, welding hooks onto pipes and modifying water pumps. It was creative, tactile, fun work that Delia was thoroughly enjoying. Combined with the dizzyingly exciting new developments in her relationship with Patsy, Delia wasn’t sure she’d ever been more content. 

Her mind drifted to the bewitching redhead as she made her way towards Trixie, keeping a close eye out as she went, determined not to be caught off guard. Five glorious days ago, Patsy had _kissed_ her. It hadn’t been the passionate, searing kiss of her fevered imaginings, at least not at first, but it was so full of warmth and sincerity and Delia couldn’t have imagined it being any more perfect. Patsy was such a strong, beautiful, extraordinary person who had overcome so much and Delia still couldn’t quite believe that Patsy thought that _she_ was special. She felt so very, very lucky. 

The heat rose in her cheeks as she thought about how warm and wonderful that kiss had been. It had left her feeling like she was floating blissfully on the clouds. As had so many of the kisses since then. And there had been _so many_. Soft gentle ones and urgent ones and playful ones and ones that were decidedly…heated. All of them had been glorious. And surprisingly, to her at least, the majority of them were instigated by Patsy.

When she thought back to what she had imagined a more physical relationship with Patsy would look like, she had to admit that she’d never imagined that Patsy would be so… forward. Especially considering it had taken her a full month to kiss Delia. But now, all of Patsy’s playfulness was on full display. 

Considering that very friskiness, Delia reminded herself to focus on her surroundings. Opening up to Delia about her past seemed to have broken all kinds of barriers for Patsy, and the redhead was taking an unreserved delight in getting to use the skills she’d learned in the camp for a purpose that was just undeniably fun. As such, she’d taken to hiding away every morning after announcements and then ambushing Delia at some point during her walk to meet up with Trixie. She was frustratingly good at it, seeming to have the ability to materialize out of thin air. Delia had always been rather proud of her own skills, and she was adamant that Patsy wouldn’t get the better of her today. 

She turned the final corner and saw Trixie setting up the ladder near one of the aluminium poles Peter’s team had installed. She relaxed slightly, feeling an odd mix of sad that apparently she wouldn’t get to see Pasty this morning and proud that she’d avoided being surprise attacked for the third straight day. She was about to call out to Trixie to tell her to set up the ladder on the far side of the pole when she was suddenly grabbed by the left arm and yanked unceremoniously into a dark tent through an opening in the canvas she hadn’t even seen. 

As Delia’s eyes struggled to adjust to dim lighting, Patsy’s transparently gleeful voice cut through the darkness, ‘I got you again!’ 

Any feelings of frustration Delia might have felt immediately melted away when she felt Patsy’s strong arms wrap around her. She smiled and nuzzled her nose against Patsy’s cheek, ‘You really need to stop sneaking up on me like this. It’s absolutely terrible.’ 

Patsy’s voice was filled with mirth, ‘Mmmm…I don’t know why you put up with me.’ 

Before Delia had a chance to respond, Patsy leaned down and gently caught Delia’s lips with her own. The kiss was warm and soft and wonderful, and when Patsy opened her mouth slightly to deepen it, Delia was completely caught up in the sensation. In all of her years on Earth, she had never encountered anything as utterly intoxicating as being kissed by Patsy. The entire rest of the world simply ceased to exist for those few blissful moments when the redhead’s lips were pressed to hers. 

When Patsy eventually pulled away, Delia left her eyes closed, trying to remain in the moment as long as possible. Finally, she took a deep breath and opened them to see Patsy’s eyes sparkling with warmth in the dim light of the tent. 

Delia gazed up at Patsy, a giant grin on her face, ‘Well, that was a fabulous demonstration of one reason why.’

Patsy chuckled, ‘Not the worst way to be wished Good Morning, is it?’ 

Delia shook her head and giggled, ‘Though I believe it’s customary to _exchange_ morning greetings.’ She wrapped her arms around Patsy’s neck, pulling the redhead down into a kiss that was immediately eagerly returned. She felt herself getting completely lost in the feeling of Patsy pressed against her, the movement of their lips, the sensation of hands running through her hair. All thoughts of the incendiary project or working with Trixie or an irritated Barbara waiting for Patsy simply melted away. Absolutely nothing else mattered. 

Suddenly, the real world came screeching back into her consciousness as Trixie’s shrill and irritated voice cut through the air, ‘Patience Mount, I know you’ve taken my workmate and snuck her off somewhere. Once you two are done snogging behind a tent like two love-struck teenagers, I’d very much appreciate it if she could be returned. We have an awful lot to get done today, and I’m not particularly excited about having to do it myself.’ 

Delia looked up slightly bashfully as she and Patsy broke apart, meeting Patsy’s mischievous eyes. They smirked at each other throughout Trixie’s speech before devolving into a fit of giggles as soon as she finished. 

‘Well, Ms Busby, it appears you’ve gotten me in trouble.’ 

Delia sported a look of mock shock as she playfully slapped Patsy’s shoulder, ‘You got _yourself_ into trouble, Ms Mount. _I_ wasn’t the one who kidnapped you into an abandoned tent for a morning snog.’ 

‘No, but you forced my hand by being so incredibly alluring when you were ordering everyone around this morning.’ 

Delia felt herself blushing as she laughed, pushing Patsy away teasingly and directing her towards the entrance to the tent, ‘Well, then I’m going to be even more _alluring_ by ordering you to go meet up with poor Babs, who’s waiting patiently for you.’ 

Patsy turned and walked the last few steps towards the tent flap backwards, raising an eyebrow suggestively at the brunette, ‘If you keep issuing orders like that, I won’t be able to control myself.’ 

‘Go on, you. I’ll see you at lunch.’ Delia watched as Patsy playfully blew her a kiss before backing out of the tent and heading back to meet up with Barbara. The brunette sighed contentedly as she fixed her hair before turning and making her way towards the gap that Patsy had pulled her through. Popping back out of the tent, she found herself being eyed by a bemused-looked Trixie. 

‘I know that I wholeheartedly encouraged this entire endeavour, but I hadn’t quite anticipated you two being quite so sickeningly adorable.’

Delia smiled a bit bashfully, ‘Well, hopefully our adorableness will prevent our very _patient_ workmates from getting too angry when we’re a bit late?’ 

Trixie smirked, ‘For now, at least, you’re forgiven. Though it’s not forgotten, mind you. I shall wait patiently for the appropriate moment to cash in on my _impressive_ tolerance.’ 

Delia chuckled as she grabbed the ladder and began to position it on the correct side of the pole, ‘I’m sure you’ll find the most opportune moment to exact your revenge.’ She scrambled up and reached out, smiling as Trixie immediately placed a sprayer mount into her waiting hand. 

They worked for several minutes in companionable silence, Trixie handing Delia tools and parts as she needed them. As she began affixing the wires to the sprayer, she remembered the interaction she’d seen that morning.

‘Trixie, do you mind if I ask you something?’ 

‘Of course not, sweetie.’ 

‘Why do you take Winifred’s lucky soldering iron every morning? I know you always give it back, but it just makes her so…flustered. And we don’t really need it all that often for this project anyway.’ 

Trixie looked annoyed, ‘Lucky iron, my foot! It’s by far the least glitchy one we have, and it has the greatest number of parts still with the kit. She likes it because it’s _better_ , and I don’t think she should get to keep using the excuse that it’s ‘lucky.’ Everyone should get to have access to it if they need it that day.’

Delia looked down at Trixie in a bit of shock. She hadn’t ever heard the blonde’s voice take on that level of… _bitterness_ before. It seemed highly unlikely the soldering iron was really the issue. 

‘So you take it each morning…why? To try to teach her a lesson about the importance of sharing?’

‘Something like that.’ 

Delia narrowed her eyes, ‘I don’t for one minute believe you.’ 

Trixie gave her a hard look back and tried to hand her the long-nosed pliers she needed to finish the electrical connections, but Delia didn’t yield. They just stood there staring challengingly at each other for a few moments before finally Trixie released a long sigh and shrugged. 

‘I’ve just noticed how differently she’s been treating you since you and Patsy got together and…well…perhaps I enjoy making homophobes _flustered_.’ 

Delia smiled, a little touched by Trixie’s protectiveness, ‘Trix, I don’t think she’s a homophobe, per say, I think she was just…surprised.’ 

Trixie shook her head, ‘I’m sorry, but that’s not an excuse. If Julienne and Evangelina announced they were lovers I’d be _surprised_ , but I wouldn’t treat either of them any differently.’

Delia chuckled, ‘It’s not as if Julienne and Evangelina announcing themselves as lovers would really be all that surprising.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, actually. Evangelina’s asexual, and very proudly so. Apparently, back before the Reckoning, she was quite a leader in the burgeoning movement. Rumour has it she even has a tattoo of a Bloc soldier carrying an ace flag on her back. So, while they’re undoubtedly extremely close, _lovers_ would be…quite the surprise.’ 

Delia raised her eyebrows, ‘Evangelina has a tattoo that she got _after_ the Reckoning? I didn’t know she had those kinds of connections.’ 

‘Oh yes, she’s been highly involved in various movements for almost her whole life and has all sorts of _scandalous_ contacts. We’re always quite impressed by who she seems to know, though Patsy has one or two _nefarious_ connections of her own. 

‘Patsy has nefarious connections?’ Delia was a little surprised. Patsy had never mentioned anyone other than Fred. 

‘Of course, how do you think she got you that gin?’ 

‘I’d assumed Fred.’ 

Trixie let out a disbelieving snort, ‘Fred? The man’s a teddy bear. Getting gin requires interacting with a more…unsavoury sort.’ 

Delia furrowed her brow, unsure of how she felt about Patsy potentially taking a risk to get a treat for her. Trixie’s voice cut through her contemplation. 

‘Don’t worry, Delia. She’s more than capable of handling the worst the black market can muster.’ 

‘I know. It’s just that…I don’t like the idea of her putting herself into harm’s way for me.’

Trixie eyed her with amusement, ‘Trust me, when Patsy goes toe-to-toe with her black-market connections, her safety is never a concern. Though the fact that you’re so worried is, as I said before, sickeningly adorable.’

Delia flushed slightly and cleared her throat a bit awkwardly, ‘Well, anyway, your point about Winifred is well-taken, but I think we need to be gentle with her.’ 

The coldness returned to Trixie’s eyes, ‘I disagree. Especially when we’re all sacrificing so much to be on the side that’s fighting that kind of thinking.’

‘She’s on our side, too. I really think it’s more of an issue of stability. She thought she knew me and now she thinks she doesn’t.’ 

‘It’s not like you’ve changed in any way.’ 

‘And she’ll get there. Give her time.’

Trixie’s eyes narrowed, ‘She’s your friend and teammate. You _have_ to be patient with her. I’m an independent woman who can choose to seethe at her ridiculous behaviour.’ 

‘Fair enough. Just…scale back on pestering her, alright?’ When she saw Trixie roll her eyes a bit, Delia continued, ‘Do it for me, Trix. A constantly flustered Winifred gets jumpy and makes mistakes. We don’t want this project to take forever.’ 

Trixie grumbled a bit, but eventually nodded, ‘Though if you’re going to go on about this project taking forever, might I suggest we actually get to work? I believe you said you wanted to get two whole grids done today.’ 

Delia nodded, took the long-nosed pliers from Trixie, and set about finishing up the electrical connections, ‘I don’t know why you said _two whole grids_ like that. It’s a perfectly reasonable goal. I’m honestly surprised Barbara’s goal for today is only one and a half.’

‘I’m guessing it’s because she doesn’t have a teammate who’s as dedicated to showing up on time as I am.’

Looking down, Delia could see Trixie’s eyes glinting with mirth. 

‘Very funny, though I do have to say, Patsy strikes me as someone who takes both promptness and efficiency quite seriously. She certainly does when it comes to her nursing duties. I’ve honestly been surprised at how relatively lackadaisical she’s been about this whole thing.’ 

Trixie shrugged, ‘I’m can’t say I blame her. I don’t imagine she would want to be particularly efficient.’ 

‘Why not?’

‘Really, Delia?’ Trixie looked a bit disbelieving, ‘Because as soon as this incendiary system is done, you’ll be leaving. I’m not sure why she would be in any hurry to have that happen.’ 

Delia simply stared at Trixie for a moment as the full weight of what she’d said sunk in. Of course. Patsy thought they were only there to complete the incendiary project as Phyllis recovered. No wonder Patsy had been dragging her feet slightly, never enough to be disrespectful, but enough to show that the project wasn’t one about which she felt any urgency. 

Trixie was eyeing her curiously, and Delia rushed to recover, aware that her silence was probably suspicious. 

‘Oh…right…well…that makes perfect sense.’ She went back to fiddling with the wiring, purposefully ignoring Trixie’s penetrating gaze. 

A mildly awkward silence fell over their work. Delia knew she should have a better response…that she should have thought about this, but she had spent the better part of the last week avoiding thinking about the future. She had allowed the uncertainty around Plan B and the long-term nature of the incendiary project to lull her into a false sense of the permanence of the present. 

Thinking about the future was just too painful. She knew deep down that eventually the team was going to leave, and when they did that would probably mean leaving Patsy behind. Sometimes, in her more wildly optimistic moments, she considered that Patsy could perhaps join them; her fighting skills would undoubtedly be welcome. But then she would realize how miserable that would probably make Patsy. How much it would trigger her memories, remind her of what she had once been forced to do. 

Delia loved being with Patsy, and she didn't want to think about what a future without her might entail…so she’d simply avoided it. There hadn’t been an update from Phyllis about Plan B for several weekly meetings, and there was still so much work to do on the incendiary project. The future could be dealt with when it came. Now, she was going to bask in the joy of the present. 

Finally finishing up all of the connections, Delia tied a string around the mounting hook and climbed down. She and Trixie silently began to gather all of their tools to haul them the few metres to the next pole, trailing the hoses, wires, and string along with them. 

Apparently tired of the silence, Trixie suddenly announced, ‘Well, now that we’ve determined that you’ve apparently put absolutely no thought into what on earth you’re going to do when this project is complete – which, by the way, only reinforces my suspicion that the two of you are, in fact, teenagers – might I suggest that we simply move on to discussing something you’ll actually be willing to talk about? Perhaps what you wish you had more of in your music collection?’ 

Delia shot her a grateful look, thankful that the blonde had decided not to push, ‘Oh, that’s easy. Power ballads.’ 

Trixie laughed as she climbed the ladder, tying the string to the hook and using a spirit level to ensure Peter’s team had done their job correctly, ‘Power ballads? I’ll try not to judge your musical tastes too harshly.’ 

Delia furrowed her brow as she handed Trixie a sprayer mount, ‘How could anyone not like power ballads?’ 

‘I like my music to have a little _class_.’ 

Delia snorted, ‘You’re allowing your snobbishness to blind you to one of life’s great joys.’ 

The tension broken, they chatted amiably as they continued to work, the future once again eagerly forgotten in favour of the happy glow of the present. 

 

 

Delia stood back and surveyed their progress. After about an hour and a half of work, they’d successfully completed one grid. She gave a contented little huff. They were right on schedule. She turned to Trixie, ‘Alright, I’m off to the tent to grab the hoses and wire we need for the next grid. Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.’ 

‘I’m off for a quick loo break. I’ll be sure to fend off any temptations that come my way.’ Trixie took a few steps towards the block of composting toilets before turning back, ‘Just be sure you do the same,’ she added with a wink. 

Delia chuckled and turned to make her way to her tent. About halfway there, she glanced to her left to check in on Winifred and Chummy’s progress. She was baffled to see Winifred sitting alone on the bottom step of the ladder scribbling something onto her pad of paper. 

‘Winifred, what are you doing? Where’s Chummy?’ 

The small spy’s eyes shot up in surprise and a pall of guilt immediately fell over her face. She babbled nervously, ‘She left to go get some more hoses about half an hour ago, and she isn’t back yet. I did everything I could to get prepped, and then I thought of something and wanted to write it down, so then I started doing that, and then I guess I lost track of time and I didn’t think to go check on her and –’

Delia cut her off, feeling her pulse quicken, ‘You let Chummy go to the storage tent by herself? Oh no.’ 

She turned and took off at almost a run. All of the supplies in the tent were meticulously organized, but precariously so. There were simply too many things packed into too small a space, and they’d all been handling everything very…gingerly. But Chummy was a bit ungainly and it was such a cramped space...Delia couldn’t imagine that the doctor trying to extract hoses would have gone well. 

Delia’s stomach plummeted as she burst into the tent to see that her fears had been realized. Chummy stood, looking flustered and apologetic, in the middle of a tornado of chaos. The pipes had crashed down and were splayed around the tent like a giant game of pick-up sticks. In attempting to reorganize them, the doctor had managed to tangle all of the hoses and wires together into something resembling a giant rat’s nest. It was almost impressive, actually, just how much of a disaster it was. 

‘Oh, Delia. Thank goodness you’re here. I fear I’ve managed to make a bit of a mess. I must have backed into the pipes, and then I kept tripping over them after they’d fallen and one thing just led to another and now, well, things have gotten a little out of control.’ As she spoke she bent over and picked up two of the pipes to stack them back in their designated area, but she wasn’t paying attention to behind her, and one of the pipes hit a bucket of wire nuts, sending its contents spraying across the room. This caused her to whirl around while still holding onto the pipes, knocking over a bin of brass fittings and almost decapitating Delia. 

As she heard the brass fittings hit the dirt floor, Delia realized she’d been wrong. It was actually impressive that this wasn’t even more of a disaster. She kept her voice as light as possible, ‘Yes, well, these things happen. Why don’t you put down those poles for now, and we’ll see about getting you a few hoses to bring back to Winifred. Trixie and I will take care of organizing the rest.’ 

Chummy smiled gratefully, ‘Oh that’s most wonderful of you. I’ve been trying to make it better, but I fear I’ve spent the better part of twenty minutes just managing to make everything worse.’ 

Swallowing down a sense of exasperation and reminding herself that Chummy certainly hadn’t meant any harm, Delia smiled back, silently bidding farewell to any thought of getting two grids complete this morning. She carefully approached the mayhem and slowly began digging through to try to find some still-untangled hoses. She heard assorted clattering sounds behind her as Chummy began to wade her way out of the miasma, but she didn’t dare turn to watch. She’d assess the damage once she had gotten Chummy out of the tent as quickly as possible without hurting the doctor’s feelings. 

Finally finding three appropriate hoses, she plastered on a smile before turning and presenting them to Chummy, who thanked her profusely. 

‘Please, don’t worry about it. Just…could you send Trixie my way before you and Winifred get back to work? I’m sure the two of us will get this all sorted out in no time.’ 

Chummy nodded and bustled out. As soon as she left, Delia’s face fell and she took a deep breath as she turned to survey the scene more closely. Letting it out in a prolonged grumble, she set about trying to get things back under control. Ugh. This was just such a complete disaster. Why had Winifred sent Chummy on her own? Something like this was bound to happen with everything as tenuously stacked as it had been. 

Wading into the fray, she began by trying to re-stack the pipes, but quickly realized that everything was just too tangled together for such a systematic approach. No, she would just have to start at one corner and try to make her way across the tent, untangling as she went. 

After several minutes of frustrating work, she began to wonder just where Trixie was. She knew the blonde hated these kinds of tedious organizational tasks, but then again, Delia did too. She bet Trixie was loitering and chatting in order to avoid work. She mumbled irritatedly to herself as she bent over to examine a particularly tangled mass of hoses. 

Suddenly a highly amused voice broke her concentration, ‘Well, Trixie wasn’t exaggerating when she said you’d made a mess that needed sorting. I must say I’m impressed, both with the scale of the destruction and the view.’ 

Delia smiled as she stood and faced Patsy, who was standing in the entrance with her arms crossed, her lips turned up in a small half-smile.

‘Are you going to make a habit of ogling my arse when I’m engaged in cleaning things?’ 

Patsy laughed, ‘The first time was Trixie ogling, remember?’ 

‘Oh, right. I’d forgotten that little ruse of yours. Speaking of ruses, how on earth did you get Trixie and Babs to let you come here to work with me on this mess…which Chummy made, by the way, not me.’ 

Patsy shrugged, ‘I think you’ve managed to find a task unpleasant enough that they’re willing to allow us to work together in order to avoid it.’ 

Delia looked down at the disarray, ‘Well, I’m glad that you’re here, but I’m sorry you got roped into this.’ 

Patsy shook her head, smiling, ‘Have you forgotten? I love things like this...I am quite good at housework, after all.’ 

Delia smiled back for a moment before scanning the tent sceptically, ‘I’m afraid there’s quite a lot to tidy away.’ 

Patsy smirked back, ‘Well, luckily that’s my forte.’ 

As they set to work, it quickly became apparent why Trixie had sent Patsy. The redhead was nothing short of astounding when it came to sorting and reorganizing. Hoses and wires seemed to magically untangle themselves when she touched them and her ability to conceptualize the space was truly extraordinary. She found ways to fit and stack things that Delia would never even have considered. At one point, Delia simply stepped back and watched in awe as Patsy took a shelving unit that had looked packed to the gills and rearranged everything so that not only were the contents sorted by use and size but it was also a third empty. 

Patsy also stayed remarkably focused, not once getting distracted by Delia’s presence. Every time the brunette would glance over at her, Patsy would have a look of contented intensity on her face. As if in this moment she wasn’t just tidying up a storage tent, she was setting the world in order. Delia was utterly transfixed and, honestly, a little bit turned on. This latter feeling only increased when the redhead began directing Delia to help her lift and shift the pipes into a newly cleared out corner. It was extremely sexy, having Patsy simply take charge. 

In about half the time that Delia had anticipated, not only was the mess completely tidied away, but Patsy had also overhauled the entire organizational system, leaving the tent feeling almost…spacious. Delia stood back in wonderment.

‘Pats, this is absolutely incredible.’ 

Patsy stood in a corner rummaging through a canvas bag, completely unimpressed with her own work, ‘Yes, well, I think I’ve found a logical place for everything except this bag of what looks like…old burned-up incendiaries? I’m not sure what to do with it.’ 

‘Ah yes, Winifred started collecting those a few days ago. I’m not sure why, honestly. It appears her secret project is a secret from me too. I would just put the bag next to her bed. I’ll remind her not to throw it on top of the incendiary project equipment.’ 

Patsy nodded, walking the bag over to Winifred’s camp bed, tying it closed with a perfect slipknot, and placing it carefully on the floor near the head of the bed, ‘There! All finished. It took a little longer than I would have liked, but the results aren’t bad.’ 

Delia eyed her with disbelief, ‘Longer than you would have liked? Patsy, you cleaned up a chaotic mess and reorganized the entire tent in forty-five minutes. The only way you could have done it any faster is if you were an actual wizard.’ 

Patsy smiled as she sauntered over to Delia, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman, ‘I might still have one or two tricks up my sleeve, but being a wizard isn’t one of them.’ 

Delia nestled happily into Patsy’s embrace, ‘Are you saying you have tricks you’ve been hiding from me?’ 

‘Well, a woman has to maintain an air of mystery,’ Patsy shrugged before grinning mischievously down at Delia, ‘Do you think my apparently impressive efficiency has bought us a bit of time when the others won’t miss us?’ 

Delia mirrored her expression, ‘You know, I think it might just have.’ 

This time, Delia moved forward first, feeling a rush of excitement as their lips met. Once again, she quickly became lost in the warmth of the kiss. She hoped that Trixie and Barbara were happily working together, and wouldn’t come looking for them anytime soon. Patsy let out a little moan as Delia deepened the kiss, and all thoughts of Barbara and Trixie evaporated. 

She had no idea how long they had been kissing, though she knew it wasn’t nearly long enough, when suddenly she heard an authoritative ‘Ahem!’ from just outside the tent. 

They quickly broke apart, both a little flustered and embarrassed. Patsy tucked her hair behind her ear self-consciously as she looked down at the floor. It was so adorable Delia had to restrain herself from jumping on the redhead again, interloper be-damned. Instead she turned towards the entrance and called out a tentative ‘Yes?’

Phyllis stuck her head into the tent, looking just a slight bit awkward herself, ‘Sorry to disturb, but Dr Noakes threw in the towel on assisting when she knocked over one of the poles. Winifred and I have been quite efficient and are in need of a few more supplies so I thought I’d come check in. I see you’ve made _impressive_ progress with the mess.’ 

‘Yes, well, as it turns out Patsy’s a bit of an organizational wizard.’ 

Phyllis turned to Patsy, looking chuffed, ‘I can’t say that surprises me. Nurse Mount’s management systems are quite admirable.’ 

Delia expected Patsy to be pleased at the compliment, but the redhead still looked a bit mortified. 

She uncomfortably stammered out, ‘Yes, well, I _do_ very much enjoy sorting things. But I think now I should go and see what kind of progress Trix and Barbara are making. I’ll see you both at lunch.’ And with that she beat a hasty retreat out of the tent. 

Delia watched her exit with a bit of concern, hoping that Patsy wasn’t too upset. She felt a little surge of irritation with Phyllis for disturbing their moment. Temporarily ignoring the older woman’s presence, she turned and walked back to the stack of hoses, calming herself for just a second before turning and, with the cheeriest voice she could muster asking, ‘What kind of supplies did you need? We’ve re-organized things a bit, so it’ll probably be faster if I help you find them.’ 

Phyllis nodded and rattled off a list. Delia pointed out where some of them were before reaching onto the shelves herself to grab the rest. Phyllis worked alongside her in silence for a moment before quietly asking, ‘So, I take it your conversation with Nurse Mount went well?’ 

Delia couldn’t help the small smile that came to her lips, ‘Eventually, yes, it went well.’ 

Phyllis gave a silent nod, though Delia thought the older spy looked quite pleased. After a few more moments Phyllis calmly inquired, ‘And during the conversation did you learn anything that might be pertinent to the mission?’ Her tone was almost _too_ casual. 

Delia grimaced internally. She didn’t want any more reminders of the reality of the situation: that she was on a mission, that this was all temporary. She wished more than anything she could pause this moment in time…just enjoy Patsy forever without having to think about Plan B or Reapers or Phyllis’ expectations. But sadly, the woman herself was standing in front of her looking expectant. Delia decided to hedge slightly. Perhaps she could avoid a confrontation. 

‘Nothing that matters as long as Plan B stays on hold.’ 

Phyllis gave her a hard look, as if deciding just how hard she was going to push. When she spoke, her voice had an edge of tension, ‘And what about if Plan B is approved?’ 

Delia sighed. She’d known this moment, this _question_ , was coming, and it appeared their little impending set-to was unavoidable. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, ‘I’m sorry, Phyllis, but I’m just not comfortable disclosing that.’

‘Delia –’ Phyllis’ tone carried a warning, and Delia cut her off before she could get any further. 

She spoke too quickly, her nervousness clear in her voice, ‘I’m not saying I’ll never say anything or that the team can never know, but it took a great deal of courage and trust for Patsy to tell me, and I’m not going to betray that, especially with Plan B on hold. If it’s ever approved, I’ll talk to her and she…or we…can tell the whole team when we sit and discuss the plan together, but I’m not putting her through that for no reason.’ 

Delia eyed Phyllis nervously as her speech came to an awkward halt. Two and a half months ago, when they’d first arrived at camp, Delia wouldn’t have been able to imagine a situation where she would have refused to give Phyllis such astoundingly pertinent and important information. But now…now everything had changed. Delia knew that sharing Patsy’s past as a Redeemer with anyone else would be a betrayal of trust the redhead wouldn’t forgive. Besides, it was Patsy’s story to tell, and Delia hoped that, if Plan B was approved, she could sit with Patsy and explain that the Quartet was here to work _with_ her. To help her. She hoped they could be a team, despite Phyllis’ dismissal of the concept. 

The older spy was currently staring pensively at her, and Delia waited apprehensively, half expecting to get the bollocking of her life. But no matter what Phyllis said, she was resolute. She _wouldn’t_ betray Patsy’s trust. 

Finally, Phyllis sighed deeply and nodded, ‘Alright, that’s fair for now. But if you wouldn’t mind telling me, do you feel confident you know everything from her past that could be pertinent?’ 

Delia knew her face was probably openly telegraphing her shock. Of all of the responses she’d anticipated, mild acquiescence hadn’t been one of them. After taking a moment to collect herself, she shook her head, ‘No.’ 

Phyllis squinted at her slightly, ‘Why not?’

‘Because nothing she’s told me explains the dance. Why she was so spooked by that song.’ 

Phyllis gave a small nod, ‘Do you have any thoughts?’ 

Delia sighed. This was something she definitely didn’t like thinking about, ‘I imagine my thoughts are much the same as yours. But as hard as it was to imagine her being in a camp, that just seems…unfathomable.’

‘I agree. But this entire situation has been full of surprises, and it would be too much of a coincidence for there to be two Redemptionist doctors who constantly hum that song to themselves. We need to determine if she has history with Dr Galton.’ 

Delia felt a sudden surge of defensive anger. She had just told Phyllis she wasn’t going to betray Patsy’s trust. Why did the older woman insist on pushing, on trying to make Delia do something she didn’t want to do… _wouldn’t_ do. When she spoke, she could hear the defensiveness giving her words an edge, ‘I’m not going to push her to tell me something before she’s ready, Phyllis. And I really wish you’d stop talking about her as if she were some mystery that needs to be solved. She’s a kind, compassionate, dedicated human being who deserves to be treated as such.’ 

Delia was satisfied to see that Phyllis actually looked a bit cowed, ‘I’m sorry I angered you, Delia, but you misunderstand me. I don’t want you to push or pry. I’m simply requesting that you keep an ear out and when you think you have a better sense of the whole picture let me know so we can strategize how we might best tell her about Plan B.’ 

Mollified both by Phyllis’ conciliatory tone and the mention of telling Patsy about Plan B, Delia nodded, ‘As soon as I’m confident I have a complete picture, I’ll let you know.’ 

Phyllis gave a tight-lipped smile, ‘Excellent. Now, let’s talk about something a little less… charged, shall we? I see the teams are making excellent progress with the morning work. How are you progressing with the water pumps? Will they be operational soon?’ 

Delia smiled, happy to move to a more neutral subject, ‘Hopefully, yes. I’ve devised a little test for one this afternoon. I need to see if the dual solar/wind chargers I’ve constructed charge the batteries enough to give the pumps adequate pressure. Especially because Julienne nixed my water-tower idea due to security concerns.’ 

‘She was right, though. We need to avoid centralized points of attack. It’s much safer to pump the water to a grid of waiting barrels.’ 

‘So you’ve mentioned, though I’m not sure why you’re so worried. Attacking a refugee camp would be a drastic escalation of hostilities. I’m not sure there would be any benefit to that unless the Redemptionists had perfected the new Reaper virus, and surely Mary Cynthia would have informed HQ if that was the case.’

‘True, but this is a long-term system we’re devising, and we don’t know if things will escalate in the future. Better safe than sorry.’ 

Delia smiled a bit ruefully. Phyllis _was_ always looking to the future and planning for worst-case scenarios. That’s probably why she kept bringing up Patsy’s past even though Plan B seemed no closer to being approved. The older woman hadn’t managed to survive over fifteen years as a spy by being unprepared. 

‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to Winifred so we can get back to work before she gets lost in that notebook of hers again. Thank you for helping me locate these supplies.’ She gathered everything into her arms and bustled towards the entrance before turning back and smiling, ‘Oh, and Delia, the transformation of this tent is really astounding. I trust you’ll find an appropriate way to thank Nurse Mount for reorganizing it for you.’ She gave something approximating a little wink and dashed out. 

Delia felt heat rushing to her cheeks. Getting teased by Trixie and Barbara was one thing, but Phyllis doing it felt _much_ more awkward. 

She tried to push her embarrassment away and focus on the water pump test she had planned for this afternoon. She felt her excitement build as she realized that what had started as a surprise for Patsy could now be a Thank You as well. Her cheeks flushed again for a completely different reason as her mind wandered to the various ways that Patsy might show her appreciation. Gathering up the hoses she had originally come to her tent to fetch, she smiled to herself as she headed out to find Trixie. Only a few more hours until she could give Patsy her latest little gift. 

 

_____________________

 

 

Delia stood on tiptoe atop the two-step stool she’d constructed so as to not look suspicious carting a ladder around camp. Tightening down the final bolt on the makeshift water heater she’d built, she could feel excitement bubbling through her. This time, her surprise really was going to be perfect. No disasters at the end. No pushing too hard. Just giving Patsy a thoughtful gift she would enjoy. It was going to go flawlessly. 

‘Delia? Hello?’ 

Delia smiled and jumped down. Patsy was, unsurprisingly, early, and Delia hadn’t had time to do a final test of the system. But that was fine; she trusted her workmanship. Her only concern was where she’d welded the hose connection to the water heater. It was her first weld that would have to withstand high pressure, but she’d been wary to ask Barbara for help. She wanted Patsy to be the first to know about this. She eyed it a bit sceptically before deciding it would hold up just fine. She pulled closed the curtain she’d put up to hide the corner of the bathhouse that housed her creation. 

‘Come in, Pats!’ 

Patsy stepped into the tent looking bemused, ‘Your note said that I should make my presence known before entering the tent. I assume that was to prevent me from getting another unobstructed view of your rear?’ 

Delia laughed, ‘Actually, it was to prevent you from walking in on me while I was mumbling to myself.’ 

Patsy smiled and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Delia, ‘I happen to find your mumbling incredibly adorable.’ 

Delia beamed up at Patsy, feeling warmth flow through her, ‘One of the many ways in which I’m lucky, I suppose.’ 

Patsy nodded, ‘And one of the ways _I’m_ lucky is that I get to do this.’ She leaned down and kissed Delia, who thought to herself that she wasn’t sure Patsy was entirely correct about who the lucky one was in this particular scenario. Eventually, Patsy broke away and glanced at their surroundings, ‘Now, are you going to tell me why I’ve been summoned to a suspiciously shrouded bathhouse this afternoon?’ 

Delia ran her hands up and down Patsy’s arm, ‘First, I just wanted to check and make sure you were alright after this morning. You ran out so quickly after Phyllis came in. It never dawned on me to hide our relationship from anyone, but if you’d prefer we try to be more discreet…’ 

Patsy shook her head adamantly, ‘Oh no, it wasn’t anything like that. It’s just that with Phyllis…well…it’s a bit like having your mother walk in on us kissing. It was just…embarrassing, I suppose.’ 

Delia nodded, ‘It _was_ awkward, that’s true, though I guarantee you the response would have been monumentally less subdued if it had actually been my mother. But you’re generally alright…with the pace we’ve been taking things? With how we’ve been around the others?’ 

Patsy cocked her head to the side for a moment, considering, ‘ _I’m_ definitely completely fine, snogging in front of Phyllis notwithstanding. Are you, though? I know you waited a while for a kiss…and if it’s moving too slowly now…’

Delia shook her head with a smile, ‘I’m so much more than fine. It’s perfect now, Pats, and I’m happy to move at whatever pace you feel comfortable with.’ She stood on tiptoe to give Patsy a gentle kiss. Pulling back, she beamed up excitedly at the redhead, ‘Now, are you ready for your surprise?’ 

‘I don’t know, Delia, you’ve given it quite the build-up. I’m rather afraid it’s going to disappoint.’ 

Delia slapped Patsy’s shoulder playfully, pulling away to make her way over to the curtain, ‘Do you remember how you were telling me that your preferred way of relaxing used to be to take a long, hot shower, and how you hate that here you just have bucket showers? Well…’ she flung the curtain back dramatically, ‘I made you a shower!’ 

Patsy looked highly sceptical, ‘A shower?’ 

Delia bounced up and down with excitement, ‘Yes! Because I needed to test the pump pressure, and this will be a perfect test case. See?’ She bounded over to the water pump, ‘I have the pump and battery here, and then it’s connected by this hose to this gas water heater I made.’ She pointed to a two-foot length of hose which ran to the small box mounted near the roof that contained the makeshift heater, ‘And then the pipe runs into the shower cubicle,’ She flung the cubicle curtain open, ‘Where I installed a showerhead. And the water heats on-demand, so you can take as long of a shower as you’d like!’ 

‘And the gas?’

‘I ran a propane line from the kitchen tent. It’s only one tent over, though I buried it just in case.’ 

‘This is a terribly sweet idea Delia, but won’t that waste propane?’

Delia’s brow furrowed. She’d honestly been expecting a slightly more excited response, ‘Well, I mean, people shouldn’t take long showers _all the time_ , and anyway, it also takes energy to heat up the water for bucket showers.’ She could feel herself beginning to deflate, ‘I just thought that it might be nice to have sometimes, for when you have a particularly hard day, or it’s beastly cold, or…I don’t know…if you wanted to treat yourself.’ 

A small smile appeared on the corner of Patsy’s lips, ‘If I wanted to treat myself, huh?’ 

Delia felt herself relax a bit, ‘Yes, Pats, you do deserve to occasionally treat yourself. All of you camp workers do. You all work so hard all the time, and sometimes you should treat yourself to little things like warm showers.’ 

The mischievous glint was returning to Patsy’s eye, replacing the scepticism, ‘And I suppose if it’s an issue of conserving propane, then sharing a shower would just be…practical?’

‘You know, I hadn’t even considered that as a possibility,’ Delia lied, shooting Patsy an equally devilish smirk. 

‘And who’s the fibber now?’ 

Delia laughed and approached Patsy, taking her hand and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, ‘Maybe someday, in the future, when we’re both completely ready and comfortable then yes, it _would_ just be practical.’ She gave the redhead’s hand a quick squeeze, ‘Now, are you ready to see it in action?’ 

The dubious look returned to Patsy’s face, ‘I mean, I trust you Delia, but didn’t you say that this was to test the pressure? What if it’s too strong and everything just kind of…explodes?’ 

‘First of all, I’m much more worried about the battery power being too weak, and second, now both you and Monica Joan have feared that my creations are going to explode, which cuts me to the core. Even if something goes wrong, it’s not going to _explode_. It just…won’t work.’ 

Patsy gave a tentative nod, ‘Alright, you’ve convinced me. Let’s see this wonderfully thoughtful contraption in action.’ 

Delia gave an excited little hop and ran over to the step stool, climbing up on it and flipping the switch to turn on the gas. She waited until she heard the satisfying noise of the burners igniting. She hopped off and dragged the stool several feet to the right before jumping back on and flipping on the water pump. The pump chugged into action, and while the motor was obnoxiously loud, everything seemed to be working well. She was about to turn to yell to Patsy to turn on the shower when she noticed that the water heater was shaking slightly. Carrying the step stool over towards it, she hoisted herself up to inspect the heater as closely as she could. 

She’d just stood on tiptoe to peer closely at her welded connection when, with a deafening ‘CRACK’, the weld failed and the hose snapped clean off of the water heater, sending an incredibly powerful spray of water directly into Delia’s face, rocketing her backwards off of the stool and onto the ground. 

Patsy let out a terrified shriek and ducked quickly into the relatively dry safety of the shower cubicle as the two-foot length of hose danced frenetically around forcefully shooting water everywhere. 

‘Goddammit,’ Delia mumbled to herself as she blew water out of her nose while crawling along the floor towards the fallen stool, blocking her head from the frequent hard sprays of water with her forearm. The combination of the deafening pump and water shooting everywhere was a bit disorienting, but still, she needed to turn this water _off_. 

‘Delia, are you alright?’ Patsy’s worried voice called over from where she was nervously sticking her head around the cubicle wall. 

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Delia yelled back, ‘I just got a load of water up my nose.’ She’d reached the stool and began dragging it the few feet towards the water pump when it fell apart in her hands. The twisting force of her falling off of it must have broken it…it had been intended as a temporary tool after all, and it was a bit shoddily constructed. She cursed loudly. 

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ 

‘The step stool’s broken. I need to go fetch a ladder.’ 

She was making her way to the door when she smelled the gas. Oh shit. The water must have put out the propane flames, but the gas was still flowing. She looked over at where the metal end of the hose was flailing about, occasionally hitting up against the heater or the metal tent poles. This was very, very bad.

She looked at Patsy in a panic and yelled, ‘Patsy, I need you to come out and try to turn off the gas. I’m not tall enough to reach the handle.’ 

‘What? Why? It’s wet out there!’ 

‘Yes, I know it’s wet, but do you smell that gas? We need to stop the flow before the hose sparks or else we’ll explode!’ 

‘What?!?!’ Patsy shrieked, ‘You _explicitly_ said exploding was something that _wouldn’t_ happen.’ 

‘I know, and we can all talk about how wrong I was later, but right now we need to get the gas turned off.’ 

Patsy got a determined look in her eyes, covered her face with her forearm, and stepped out into the watery chaos. Reaching the water heater, she reached up, but the handle was at least ten centimetres out of reach, ‘It’s just a bit too far!’ she yelled. 

Hearing the hose clang terrifyingly against one of the tent poles, Delia decided there wasn’t enough time for more graceful solutions. Stepping forward, she bent her knees, grabbed Patsy around her hips, and hoisted the redhead up. 

Patsy squawked in protest, ‘Delia! What are you doing?’ 

‘Turn off the valve, Patsy!’ Delia yelled, her voice muffled in the redhead’s back. 

She could hear Patsy grumbling as a rumble through her back as she reached up again. Finally she shouted out, ‘Got it! It’s off!’ 

Still holding Patsy, Delia began shuffling to her right, ‘OK, I’m just going to walk us over the few feet to the water pump and then you can turn that off too.’ 

‘What?’ Patsy spluttered as the water hit her in the face, ‘No, put me down, Delia, I’m too close to the water up here!’ 

‘But we’re almost there!’ 

Suddenly, Delia tripped over a broken piece of the step stool. With an awkward ‘Eeep!’ she tumbled backwards, Patsy landing on top of her in a soggy pile of flailing limbs. To add insult to injury, the hose sprayed them several times as they lay tangled on the ground. 

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, this is ridiculous!’ Patsy muttered as she hoisted herself up and strode purposefully into one of the other shower cubicles, returning with a bucket. Using the bucket as a shield against the water spray, she made her way to the water pump, before placing it on the floor and using it as a stool to reach the switch. She flipped it and the tent was suddenly silent save for the trickling of the final spurts of water out of the now-limp hose. 

Delia kept her eyes trained forlornly on the floor; she couldn’t bring herself to look up at the probably completely irate redhead. Shit. Now they were both drenched and had come perilously close to exploding. This entire endeavour had gone the _opposite_ of flawlessly. 

Patsy’s voice finally broke the stillness, ‘Well, I’d say that your concerns about the pumps being too weak were unfounded. Though I’d perhaps have preferred if you’d found that out in a less… _exciting_ way.’ 

The lack of anger in Patsy’s voice gave Delia the strength to look up. The redhead’s eyes shone with humour, which somehow made Delia feel even worse. Everything had been a disaster and Patsy was still being so kind. Delia didn’t deserve that, ‘I’m so sorry, Patsy. I should have tested it before I showed you. I let my eagerness get the better of me _again_.’ 

Patsy smiled and reached a hand out to help Delia up from where she was still lying in a pool of water on the floor, ‘Come on, stop moping. It’s just a little water.’ 

‘You’re really not angry?’ Delia looked up a little disbelievingly as she reached for Patsy’s proffered hand, ‘We almost exploded.’ 

‘But we didn’t.’ Patsy hoisted Delia to her feet, ‘And now I have something to lord over you _forever_ , which really is a gift in and of itself.’

Delia winced, ‘Nevertheless, perhaps I should just stop planning surprises.’ 

Patsy wrapped her arms around Delia, bringing their soggy bodies together, ‘Don’t say that. The fencing was truly wonderful, and this one’s going to be great too, once you work on adjusting the pressure.’ She tucked a soggy lock of hair behind Delia’s ear, running her finger down along Delia’s jaw, ‘Anyway, you get ample credit for remembering how much I like showers.’ 

Delia sighed and allowed herself to relax a little as she twisted her head around to lightly kiss Patsy’s fingers. She smiled up at the redhead, ‘If they end like this, I suppose it isn’t so bad if all of my surprises also involve some kind of disaster.’ 

Patsy smiled down and hugged Delia in closer, ‘Anything that ends with you in my arms can’t be classified as a disaster.’ She pulled Delia in for a warm, unhurried kiss that made the brunette’s heart sing and butterflies dance merrily in her stomach. Even soaking wet after a disastrous surprise, Patsy still wanted to hold her and caress her and kiss her. She really couldn’t believe how lucky she was. 

An odd sound suddenly broke through into her consciousness, rousing her from her enjoyment of Patsy’s heady embrace. It sounded almost like…the thrumming of helicopter rotors? Surely that wasn’t possible. 

Patsy broke away, looking up. Her body was instantly taut, the tension radiating off of her. 

Delia quirked her head to the side and listened more closely. No, that’s definitely what it was…but that meant…

‘Patsy?’ Delia was scared, but didn’t want to assume. 

The redhead looked down at her and Delia’s blood ran cold when the terror in Patsy’s eyes confirmed her fears. Approaching helicopters could only mean one thing: Camp Poplar was under attack.


	17. Evangelina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it may have taken a while, but this chapter is finally done. It's extra long, though I think it moves along fairly swiftly. Also, know that, even if it takes a long time between updates, I'm fully committed to this story. All mysteries will be solved and questions will be answered, never fear. Thanks so much for your patience and enjoy! :)

Evangelina eyed Julienne warily across the desk. After several long moments she took a deep breath. 

‘I’m sorry, Julienne, but the answer is no.’ 

Evangelina heard a huff of consternation from her left and shifted slightly to glare at Nurse Crane, who was barely containing her annoyance. 

‘I hope your refusal isn’t rooted in your personal dislike of me, Evangelina. We may have our differences, but I assure you what’s at stake here is much larger than petty squabbles.’ 

Evangelina narrowed her eyes, ‘Your lack of faith in me is duly noted, Nurse Crane. However, the answer is no because every time I reach out to that particular set of contacts, it puts both them and this entire camp in danger. I may have all sorts of connections, but they aren’t there to be at my beck and call as the whim strikes you.’ 

‘This request isn’t a whim. It’s the result of a great deal of careful calculation. We wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t important and if your connections weren’t the only option.’ 

Evangelina’s irritation flared at the use of the pronoun ‘we.’ 

‘Careful calculation? Let me see if I understand you correctly. I’m supposed to put both my connections and my friends in harms way, not to mention bring volatile explosives into a refugee camp, on the faith that it’s something _you’ve_ carefully considered? Forgive me if I’m not jumping at the chance to put everyone’s lives into your hands, considering I don’t even know why you and your team are still here.’ 

Nurse Crane sat up straight and jutted out her chin, looking defiant, ‘We’re here so my team can build an incendiary neutralization system while I fully recover from my injuries.’ 

Evangelina made a rather undignified snorting noise, ‘Yes, thank you, I’m fully aware of why we’ve been _told_ you’re still here, but I wasn’t born yesterday.’ She shifted and directed her glare at Julienne, ‘And I must say I don’t appreciate being asked by you of all people to contact Vincent for TETN when you’ve been keeping me, your head of security, in the dark about what’s happening in this camp.’ She turned back to Nurse Crane, ‘If it’s so vital to have explosives, surely HQ can provide them for you.’ 

Julienne spoke softly, ‘She can’t ask HQ because HQ doesn’t know about this particular project. We’re going a bit rogue.’ 

Evangelina felt a bolt of hurt shoot through her. Julienne had been planning rogue operations without her? After all they’d been through? She steeled herself, determined not to let the sting of Julienne’s words show, ‘All the more reason you should have told me about this earlier.’ 

‘If I may,’ Nurse Crane interjected, ‘You haven’t been particularly receptive to any of my ideas since we arrived. I suspect Julienne was concerned that you wouldn’t be particularly amenable to assisting us if you knew I had been the instigator of the project.’ 

Evangelina felt her hurt transform into white hot anger. How dare Nurse Crane presume to understand what Julienne was thinking? To understand the nature of their relationship? Since she’d arrived, all Evangelina had seen Nurse Crane do was poke around where she wasn’t wanted or spend time in the medical tent. She didn’t even seem to be aware of what the members of her team were doing most of the time. The very notion that she could _ever_ understand how Julienne steered the ship of camp, how she cared for those who served under her, seemed laughable. 

She knew her tone was bitter and harsh, ‘I’ll thank you not to presume what Julienne may or may not be thinking.’ 

‘Evangelina—’ Julienne’s tone was placating, but Evangelina was beyond being reasoned with. 

She turned in her seat to fully face the subject of her irritation, ‘And you keep going on and on about so much being at stake, but you’re always conveniently light on the specifics. Well, I refuse to let you put those I care about in danger because of some possibly-imagined bogeyman that apparently none of us are sophisticated enough to understand.’ Returning her attention to Julienne, she fixed her friend and superior with a penetrating gaze, ‘Am I correct in understanding that this is a request and not an order?’ 

Julienne stared at her for a moment before taking a deep breath, ‘I would never order you to make contact with one of your connections, Evangelina. Especially not Vincent. However, I think –’

Evangelina cut her off, ‘Good. Well, in that case, the answer is no. You can obtain the TETN for your apparently _essential_ and _secret_ project elsewhere.’ She whirled back to Nurse Crane, ‘And another thing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed…’ 

An unexpected sound cut into her consciousness. It sounded like… But surely that wasn’t possible. There had been no warning. No indication things had escalated to that level. 

All three of them exchanged nervous glances as the thrumming of approaching rotors became unmistakable. 

Nurse Crane looked at Julienne, ‘Could it be one of ours?’ 

Julienne shook her head, ‘We’re not expecting anything. I can’t think of any reason ours would have been deployed.’ 

‘But that means…’

There were several seconds of tense silence as the three of them exchanged panicked looks before they simultaneously sprang into action. 

Evangelina was halfway out the door when she heard Julienne yell, ‘I’ll contact HQ and meet you at the rendezvous point.’ She barely processed it. Her mind was racing as she mentally ran through their defence procedures. She cursed how long it had been since they’d had a drill. She hoped that everyone remembered all of the signals. Where they were supposed to be. What they were supposed to do. 

Bursting out of the tent, she looked to the sky to see four helicopters approaching. So not a massive-scale attack, but still…enough to overwhelm a camp with few experienced fighters. She watched as one of them hung back, the other three splitting off at different angles to approach the camp walls. A three-pronged attack with one held in reserve. She noted that the Redemptionist methods hadn’t changed. At least they were consistent. 

Her eyes were drawn to motion in front of her, and she looked down to see Nurse Mount and Delia emerge completely soaking wet from the bathhouse. For a brief moment she wondered why on earth they were both drenched before the concerns of the current moment outweighed her curiosity. She saw both of them look up and track the trajectory of the approaching choppers before looking down to her. She locked eyes with the tall redhead, whose jaw was set in a hard line, her eyes serious and focused. 

‘Front gate.’ Evangelina called out. 

Nurse Mount gave a brief nod before taking off in the direction of her tent, followed quickly by the brunette, who had received her own nod from Nurse Crane. 

Suddenly, a loud fizzing sound came from the direction of the weapons tent as a plume of grey smoke shot up in the direction of the approaching copters. They immediately stopped their forward progress and veered to take a wider angle on encircling the camp. Evangelina gave a little sigh of relief that Jane had remembered what she needed to do. Now that they had been warned the camp had anti-aircraft rockets, the helicopters should stay far enough away to allow them to anticipate whatever was coming. It was tempting to allow them to get in range, but considering they only had two rockets, Jane had made the right decision. 

‘A three-pronged attack? Well, the Redemptionists have never been known for their creativity.’ Nurse Crane’s voice rang out from her left. 

Evangelina gave a small snorting chuckle, ‘All the better for us, I suppose. Is your team prepared for an attack like this?’ 

Nurse Crane shot her a disbelieving glance, ‘Don’t you worry about us. We’re more than capable of handling ourselves.’ 

‘I certainly hope so.’

Evangelina took off in the direction of the rendezvous point, Nurse Crane close behind. Mr Noakes’ team and Nurse Franklin were already gathered, sorting and divvying up weapons. Barbara and Winifred came running up carting several large bags with them. Evangelina thought that seemed rather inefficient, but there was no accounting for new-fangled spy tactics. 

‘Alright, people. It’s a three-pronged attack. That means we have targets A, B and C. Remember, once they’ve assessed, we need to be prepared for the fourth to engage. Mr Noakes, your team should split in two and handle targets A and B. The nurses and I will take target C at the front gate. Remember, real rockets for A and B. Decoy rocket for C. We need them to keep their distance.’ 

Mr Noakes nodded and was about to call out teams when Nurse Crane’s voice rang out, ‘May I suggest Mr Noakes’ team, small as it is, stay together and handle target A. Barbara can handle target B and the rest of the team can engage target C.’ 

Barbara nodded and took off without hesitation in the direction of the second copter, a single pack on her back. Winifred followed more slowly behind dragging the remainder of the bags. Evangelina looked on in utter disbelief. Nurse Crane must be joking. 

‘You must be out of your mind. You want to send _one_ person to handle an entire helicopter full of unknown assailants?’ 

Nurse Crane nodded, looking entirely serious, ‘Winifred will assist her, but I assure you, Barbara is entirely capable of handling herself. She can send up a flare if she requires further assistance.’ 

Mr Noakes spoke up, ‘Actually, Evangelina, it _would_ be nice to keep my team together. There’s only seven of us, and I’m not sure teams of four and three will really be that effective. We don’t have any fighting experience.’ 

Evangelina couldn’t hide her impatience as she looked up to see that the helicopters had come to a halt, each some distance off from a different quadrant of the camp. _Something_ she couldn’t quite make out seemed to be being dropped from them. They didn’t have time for this. 

‘I’m not sending one person for an entire chopper.’ Evangelina held up her hand to halt Nurse Crane’s protestations, ‘I think we both know Winifred doesn’t count. Nurse Franklin, follow Barbara and Winifred to target B.’ 

The blonde nodded and took off after the two spies, multiple weapons strapped to her. 

‘I assure you, that’s not necessary.’ Nurse Crane sounded irritated. 

Evangelina shot the spy a withering glare, ‘Humour me.’ She turned back to the rest of the team, ‘Mr Noakes, take your team to A. Nurse Crane, Jane and I will go to target C. Nurse Mount and Delia should be joining us there shortly. Remember, send up flares if you need assistance.’ 

Everyone nodded and took off. A green flare shot up from the dining tent. Evangelina breathed another little sigh of relief. Dr Noakes and Mrs Turner had all of the refugees securely gathered in the centralised safety location. Good. That was one less thing to worry about. 

‘I’m going to go and fetch my weapons bag. I’ll meet you at target C.’ Nurse Crane sounded disarmingly calm, ‘Oh, and Evangelina…now may not be the best time to reveal this, but my team completed some upgrades to perimeter security about a month ago. Delia should have them armed by now. They should help considerably in repelling the coming attack.’ She jetted off before Evangelina had a chance to respond. 

Evangelina huffed as she gathered up weapons to carry over to the front gate, uncertain if she was more annoyed that Nurse Crane had chosen _this_ moment to reveal their changes or that the old spy assumed Evangelina didn’t already know. It still irked her that she hadn’t noticed it when it was happening, but she’d discovered their work about three weeks ago when conducting routine checks. She’d begrudgingly admitted that the changes were logical and well crafted before mentally adding it to her list of things to be annoyed at Nurse Crane about. 

Her weapons finally strapped to her shoulders, Evangelina took off in the direction of the front gate, arriving to find Jane there alone behind the safety barricade, looking uncomfortable, the decoy rocket slung across her back. 

Evangelina eyed the helicopter suspiciously, ‘Anything yet?’ 

‘No. Not yet. It looks like they dropped whatever it was about a minute ago.’ 

Suddenly, they noticed movement low on the horizon. A group of… _something_ was approaching the camp. They appeared to be smaller than Reapers and...Evangelina squinted…they weren’t _moving_ like Reapers. They were moving like… well, like insects. But surely that couldn’t be possible. These creatures looked the size of housecats. There weren’t any insects that large. 

‘What does it look like they’ve sent us this time?’ Nurse Crane’s matter-of-fact voice broke through Evangelina’s thoughts. 

Evangelina turned, mildly irritated, ‘You can see as well as I can.’ She paused as she noticed that, in addition to carrying a black duffel, Nurse Crane had a large contraption strapped to her back, ‘Is that…a flamethrower?’ 

The spy gave a curt nod, ‘If they aren’t going to shoot at us from the choppers, it seems unlikely they would spend the ammunition to shoot from less-protected positions on the ground. I fear we have some close-quarters combat to look forward to.’

‘Where did you even _get_ a flamethrower?’ 

‘Delia made it at my request, and she rigged it to have a truly impressive range. I find a flamethrower to be extremely handy in instances such as these. After all, everything’s flammable.’

‘Yes, everything _including_ this camp. Just be careful where you point that thing.’ 

‘I’ll be sure to only point it at those giant insects that appear to be set to attack us.’ Nurse Crane stepped out from behind the safety barricade and strode calmly towards the front gate, lighting her flamethrower as she walked. 

Turning towards the gate, Evangelina had to fight back a wave of revulsion. What she had assumed to be an illusion was, in fact, a horrifying reality. Skittering towards the camp were several dozen creatures that were actually closer to the size of beagles. They were definitely insects, but they didn’t look quite like any insect she’d seen before. They looked a bit like crickets, but tremendously long antennae extended out of their heads, and their shiny brown abdomens were much larger than they should be. An exoskeleton of armoured plates covered their curved backs and vicious spines protruded from their formidable back legs. The sight that sent ice through her veins, though, were the gigantic, powerful mandibles that made up at least half of their jet-black heads. The creatures gnashed them together ominously as they ran, filling the air with an eerie clacking noise that made her skin crawl. 

The first one reached the gate and tried to bite through it before being summarily roasted by Nurse Crane’s flamethrower. 

Evangelina was roused from her stupor by the spy’s calm actions. Grabbing her lance in one hand and her pistol in the other, she jetted out from behind the barricades, spearing an insect that was trying to climb the gate while aiming carefully and depositing two bullets in the head of another. 

She heard a loud buzzing sound to her right and saw a flash of motion just before something hard slammed into her side, knocking her to the ground. Her pistol flew out of her hand as she tried to brace her fall. Whatever had hit her landed down by her feet. Twisting to see what it was, her adrenaline spiked as she saw one of the creatures re-folding a set of translucent wings. These monsters could _fly_? 

The insect turned to face her and this terrifying new discovery became the least of her worries. Up close, she could see the distinctive unnatural green glow in its compound eyes, the tell-tale black ooze dripping from its mandibles. This wasn’t just a giant insect. This was a giant insect _Reaper_. 

Her blood ran cold as it began to scrabble towards her, its mandibles clacking. Her lance was too long. Her pistol too far away. She raised her knee, preparing to try to kick it away, knowing full well it would probably just latch onto her leg. 

Suddenly, she heard something whizz by her ear and a knife appeared to materialise out of the insect Reaper’s head. She simply sat and stared as it slumped to the ground, its legs twitching eerily, the black ooze pooling around it. 

Footsteps came running up and she felt someone’s presence behind her. Nurse Mount’s calm, authoritative voice sounded close to her ear. 

‘Are you alright, Evangelina?’ 

Still dazed, she nodded quickly and mumbled out, ‘They’re Reapers.’ 

She heard Nurse Mount give a small gasp of surprise, ‘Did it bite you?’ 

Evangelina shook her head, still staring numbly at the twitching corpse, ‘No. But we have to stop them. I’m fine, go on.’ 

Nurse Mount gave a grunt of approval before reaching forward, pulling the knife out of the monster’s head, wiping the blade on her pant leg, standing and launching it at another insect, hitting it in mid-air as it flew towards them. She grabbed several other knives one by one out of a bandolier strapped across her chest, hurling them at the incoming throng. Each one seemed to almost magically find its target. 

Evangelina could only stare as Nurse Mount pulled a long blade out of a scabbard on her hip, smoothly slicing their heads off as she made her way through the horde, collecting her knives as she went, flinging each of them in turn into another attacker. She moved with such incredible speed and elegance. It was almost as if she were performing a deadly ballet. 

Roused from her stupor by a small explosion to her left, Evangelina turned jerkily to see Delia crouched behind the safety barricade with Jane, calmly explaining something while brandishing a small black object in her hand. Suddenly, she yanked on the object and flung it at an approaching insect. It detonated directly upon hitting its target, sending various bits of exoskeleton and ooze flying through the air. 

After receiving a nod from Jane, Delia grabbed a long staff with a pointed end from where it lay on the ground, charging fearlessly into the approaching scrum, slashing creatures out of the air and impaling each one in its underbelly.

Jane, for her part, reached into a bag at her side and retrieved another grenade, flinging it accurately at an invader while remaining comfortably behind the barricade. 

Evangelina slowly became aware of her own body. Why was she just lying here? She needed to get off the ground. She needed to help in the fight. She hauled herself up and grabbed her lance and pistol, preparing to re-enter the fray, when she was distracted by a flare going up from the direction of target A. Mr Noake's crew needed help. 

She heard Nurse Crane's voice ring out behind her, 'Well, it appears that my services would be of more use elsewhere, as the situation here is well under control, thanks in no small part to Nurse Mount's _impressive_ skill. I'll go and see what assistance I can provide Mr Noakes.' 

Evangelina gave a half-hearted nod, honestly a bit befuddled by how effectively they were fending off the attack. She had always had a general understanding that Nurse Mount was capable of handling herself, but _this_. This was unexpected. 

Taking a deep breath, she launched herself into the fray. The insects were still coming in waves, but between the four of them they were keeping them at bay remarkably well. Evangelina had cast her empty pistol aside and was now spearing creatures that were climbing over the fence. The fighting was punctuated by frequent small explosions from Jane’s grenades. Glancing over, she noticed that both Nurse Mount and Delia were getting covered with sprays of black ooze as they fought, making them look almost ghoulish. 

Suddenly, as if called off by some silent, invisible beacon, the creatures stopped their advance and turned, one by one, flying or scuttling off away from the camp towards a small valley that lay just beyond the road marking the main entrance to the camp. 

Delia was the first to voice the question on all of their minds, ‘Where are they going? Are they done? That’s not the direction of the helicopter.’ 

Evangelina shrugged, grateful for the break if nothing else. She wiped the sheen of sweat off of her brow, noticing as she did that her sleeve came back tinged with black ooze. She shuddered as she let the reality of the situation wash over her. The Redemptionists had created giant insect Reapers. Ones that weren’t repelled by the beacons. She supposed the virus was responsible for their terrifying size…if the original Reapers were anything to go by, the virus seemed to make its animal hosts unusually large. She shuddered. Huge dogs were bad enough, but these? These monstrous creations were truly horrific.

‘We can’t just leave them out there,’ Nurse Mount sounded concerned, ‘There are probably still about a dozen left. They’ll wreak havoc on incoming refugees.’ 

Evangelina could see the logic in that, though she was loathe to open the gates before she was sure that the entire camp was secure. She raised a hand, ‘Maybe it’s an organised retreat. Let’s listen to hear if it sounds like they’ve pulled back from the other targets as well.’ 

They all stood in silence for a moment, their heads cocked towards the other targets. Evangelina could faintly make out the sounds of an on-going battle. Muffled explosions, occasional gunfire, panicked shouts. Alright, so not an organised retreat. After a few moments, she realised that some of the panicked shouts making their way to her ears weren’t from the camp at all. They were coming from the other direction. From the valley where the insect Reapers had gone. A bolt of icy panic shot through her. The creatures hadn’t been retreating. They’d been drawn, somehow, to easier prey. 

The four of them turned almost simultaneously to see a wave of terrified-looking people sprinting towards the camp. Some of the insect Reapers had latched to people’s back or arms, others were in hot pursuit of their panicked prey. 

‘Open the gate! Now!’ Nurse Mount’s voice was clear and direct. 

Evangelina ran to the gate, beyond grateful that Delia and Barbara had installed a sliding mechanism that would allow her to open the gate only slightly. They needed to allow the refugees in without also letting in a dozen Reapers. 

The instant the gate was open, Nurse Mount burst through it, sprinting towards the approaching pack, knives in hand. Smoothly, in full stride, she whipped her arm forward and sent a knife directly into the eye of an insect that was perched on a refugee’s shoulder. Evangelina could only stare. She didn’t even know people were _capable_ of that kind of accuracy. She looked to her left to see Delia standing there, apparently also momentarily shocked by the display of skill.

‘Did _you_ know she could do things like that?’ Evangelina was legitimately curious. 

Delia shook her head, looking a bit star-struck, ‘I knew she was skilled, but _that_? No. Though I have to say, in this particular moment, I’m incredibly grateful that she can.’ And with that she took off through the gate too, staff at the ready. 

Evangelina turned and noticed that Jane was still crouched behind the safety barricade, looking uncertain. Suddenly, she made the realisation that Delia appeared to have made instantly. Jane was too scared to engage directly; she needed to be given something else to do. She fought back a slight bolt of irritation at having to deal with someone so willing to let their fear control them. Now wasn’t the time for condemnation. 

She called out in Jane’s direction, noticing that she jumped noticeably at the sound of Evangelina’s harsh voice, ‘Jane! When the refugees come through the gate, have them gather just behind the intake tent.’ 

Jane nodded, looking relieved. She stood and skittered over towards Evangelina, brandishing the black bag, ‘Here. Take these. Delia designed them to detonate on contact rather than by time, so don’t drop it once it’s armed.’ 

Evangelina nodded and ducked out of the gate, sliding her lance into a holster on her back and grabbing one of the grenades. As soon as she was within throwing distance, she pulled out the pin and launched it at a creature that was a bit behind the pack. The second it hit the insect, it detonated, satisfyingly splattering it all over the rocks. Evangelina smiled to herself as she launched another. She could see why Delia had made these. They _were_ extremely gratifying. She launched several more, missing her target a few times, but for the most part her aim was true. She was pleased to note that their efforts were keeping the monsters well away from the gate, allowing refugees to run past them into the safety of the camp. 

Eventually, she grabbed the final grenade out of the bag, looking around for another Reaper to launch it at. When she couldn’t find one, she realised that most of the dozen or so had already been eliminated, and Nurse Mount was in the process of taking on the rest.

Switching immediately into nurse mode, Evangelina began ushering the remaining refugees through the gate, working with Delia to help carry a man whose leg had been badly mangled. The second they were through the gate, she turned to see Nurse Mount rounding up the stragglers. Eventually the redhead simply picked up the last woman, who was limping badly, and carried her into camp. 

As soon as Nurse Mount had ducked into the camp, Evangelina ran and slid the gate closed, breathing a sigh of relief that the entrance was once again secured. She spun around and ran towards Jane, ‘Jane! Grab your binoculars! Are there any more coming? Are they lining up for a strafing run? What do you see?’ 

Jane held a small pair of binoculars up to her eyes and scanned the helicopter, ‘It doesn’t look like there are any reinforcements in the helicopter. All I can see is one person who appears to be…’ She paused for a moment, sounding uncertain, ‘filming?’ 

Evangelina turned to her in shock, ‘Filming? Let me see.’ 

She grabbed the binoculars and held them up. Sure enough, a figure stood in the open helicopter door with a large professional-looking camera strapped to their shoulder, aimed at the camp down below. Evangelina was baffled. Was this some kind of…training run? Was the camp being attacked as some kind of test? Were refugees being bitten and attacked and terrified so that the Redemptionists could perform a _practice_ run? Evangelina felt rage well up inside her. She turned to Jane, handing her back the binoculars.

‘Leave your decoy rocket here. Get so you can see A and B. See if they have people filming in them as well.’ 

Jane nodded, placed the decoy on the ground and scurried off. 

Jane was still in sight when helicopter C abruptly turned and flew off, disappearing over the horizon. Helicopters A and B soon did the same. It appeared they’d each only had one load of Reapers. That was a relief. 

‘What’s the fourth one doing?’ Delia’s curious voice called out as she pointed towards the final chopper.

Evangelina turned to see that, rather than joining the attack or leaving, the fourth helicopter had diverted to a location further away from the camp. She watched in horror as it began to empty its payload of insect Reapers. 

Delia voiced Evangelina’s thoughts as she muttered, ‘Why is it releasing them there?’ 

Evangelina was suspicious, ‘I don’t know. It means it will take them longer to reach us, though we now can’t be completely sure where exactly they’re going to come to the fence.’ 

‘From that location, I would think they’ll end up somewhere right around here again.’ 

Evangelina supposed that seemed accurate. She took a deep breath. A whole other chopper of these monsters to repel. She hoped the other teams had their own situations under control and could come assist them. The four of them had fended off the attack with aplomb, but the combination of adrenaline and physical exertion left her feeling drained. A combination of dread and fatigue seeped through her.

She turned and noticed that Nurse Mount had shed her weapons and commenced systematically checking on the refugees. Evangelina marvelled at her fortitude. She must have been exhausted, but she didn’t show it. Evangelina dropped the bag and unstrapped her weapons, making her way over to assist. They needed to get these refugees away from the gate before the next attacking wave. They had checked on and triaged about half of the refugees when Delia’s voice rang out.

‘Look over there!’ 

Evangelina spun around from the refugee she was helping to see that a figure had come bursting through a nearby copse of trees. A young man, probably in his early twenties, was sprinting towards the gate, his eyes wide with terror. 

‘Please!’ He called out, gesturing wildly behind him, ‘You have to help! They’re terrible and they’re biting and everyone is trapped!’ 

Evangelina felt a bolt of nausea shoot through her. The fourth chopper had released the Reapers there because there was a group of refugees. Her stomach dropped as she thought about an unprotected, untrained group trying to fend off an attack from these new Reapers. It would be a massacre. 

Without hesitation, Nurse Mount picked up the weapons that she had placed on the ground, ran and opened the gate. Stepping out, she calmly addressing the man as she strode towards him, strapping weapons to herself as she walked, ‘How many people? Where are they? Do they have any source of protection?’ 

‘There’s fifteen of us, so fourteen still there, I think. Everyone scattered, but most were trying to make it to a small cave up the hillside, to try to shelter there. Just through these trees then on the other side of the creek.’ 

The redhead gave a curt nod, ‘I know the place. You stay here. Evangelina here will take care of you. Make sure you haven’t been injured.’ 

The young man nodded, looking relieved.

Delia, meanwhile, had popped behind the security barrier, producing another bag, Evangelina assumed of grenades. She hoisted the bag on her back, grabbed her staff and began making her way out towards Nurse Mount.

Evangelina, who had stepped out to see if the young man had any injuries, saw Nurse Mount’s brow furrow as soon as she spotted Delia ducking out through the gate. Casting a quick sideways glance towards Evangelina, she grabbed Delia’s arm and pulled her a few steps away. They spoke softly, but Evangelina could hear every word. 

‘No, Delia, you can’t come. It’s much too dangerous.’ 

Delia gaped up at her in disbelief, ‘I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, Patsy. You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you go out there by yourself.’ 

‘I’m not just talking about the Reapers. I don’t know what I’ll have to do when I get there. I don’t know who I’m going to have to become.’ 

‘All the more reason I need to be there. For when you come back. You’ll need someone there.’ Nurse Mount opened her mouth to protest, but Delia held up her hand, ‘I’m coming, Pats. There’s absolutely no way you can stop me.’ 

The redhead gave her a hard stare for a moment before releasing a short breath, looking anxiously towards where she needed to be, ‘Alright. Just stay out of my way if I get…well, if you need to.’ 

Delia nodded and they took off at a run, quickly disappearing from view into the trees. 

Evangelina looked after them for a moment, wondering if there was something else she should do. Going after them personally felt unwise, given her level of fitness and fighting skills. And after witnessing them take on the group of Reapers at the gate, she felt fairly confident they could handle things on their own. No, her first priority needed to be getting care for the injured refugees that were already here. She hadn't had a chance to count, but she knew that several of them had been bitten and would need urgent medical attention. Turning her attention to the young man, she directed him to gather with the refugees from the other group. 

Stepping through the gate, she stared at it for a moment before sliding it closed behind her. She didn’t know how long they would be, and couldn’t take the risk of leaving it open. 

She wondered how the other groups had fared. No more flares had been shot off. Pausing to listen, she could no longer hear sounds of fighting. It appeared that the attack had been successfully repelled. The camp had survived. 

Sighing deeply, she reached for the flare gun around her belt. It was time to call in reinforcements to get the refugees cared for and housed. She loaded a green flare into the gun, but before she had a chance to shoot it off, she heard a voice behind her. 

'Ah. Good. The situation here is completely under control, though it seems a group of refugees had the misfortune of being caught in the crossfire. We should signal for medical back-up. I assume Nurse Mount has headed to the medical tent to begin preparing for intake. Where's Delia?' 

Evangelina turned to see Nurse Crane, still carting the flamethrower on her back, peering around curiously, as if expecting her teammate to be hiding in the vicinity. 

'I _was_ just about to call for back-up, actually. And they're both outside of camp. The fourth helicopter dropped its load of Reapers onto an unprotected group of refugees just on the other side of that copse of trees. They went to see how they could help while I stayed here to begin medical care.' 

Nurse Crane's expression morphed from satisfaction to horror in an instant, 'You sent them out there on their own without any plan for back-up? To take on an entire helicopter full of these monsters out in the open without any kind of protection? For heaven’s sake!' She dropped her flamethrower and turned on her heel, taking off at a run back into the camp. 

Evangelina called out to her retreating form, 'I didn't _send_ them anywhere! They just _went_!' 

She felt a small pang of guilt, but what was she supposed to have done? Grumbling a bit to herself, she shot up the flare and returned to the group to continue triage. After a few moments, Dr Noakes arrived, followed quickly by Julienne. The three of them were moving through the twenty or so refugees assessing injuries when Barbara and Winifred wandered up. Barbara was coated in a layer of black goo, but seemed largely unfazed. Winifred, on the other hand, was spotlessly clean but looked shaken. 

Julienne greeted their approach with a smile, 'Ah, wonderful. I'm glad your area is also secured. And where is Nurse Franklin?' 

'Her uniform top was badly torn during the attack, so she ran to her tent to change. She should be here shortly. Where are Delia and Phyllis?' 

The roaring of an engine and the screeching of tyres cut them off before any of them had a chance to answer Barbara's question. They all turned and looked in the direction of the noise to see the spy van suddenly careen around a corner and speed towards them, skidding to a halt directly next to the two spies. Nurse Crane called out from the driver's seat through the already-open sliding door, 'Barbara! Winifred! Delia and Nurse Mount are out there. We're going after them. Get in!' 

Evangelina shuffled quickly over and opened the gate. 

Julienne looked confused as the two spies immediately leapt into the van, 'Nurse Mount and Delia are _outside_ of camp? Why?' 

At that moment, Nurse Franklin appeared, wearing a crisp new uniform top and looking quizzically at the van. 

Evangelina called over from the gate, 'The fourth helicopter dropped its load of Reapers onto a group of refugees near the cave. They went to see how they could help.' 

Nurse Franklin sounded horrified, 'Patsy went out there on her own? What are we waiting for? We have to go and get her!’ She jumped frantically into the van. 

Julienne’s voice called out from the group of refugees, ‘Nurse Franklin, your skills are more urgently needed here. We have many here who are injured and scared and not nearly enough trained hands.’ 

‘I’m not leaving Patsy out there!’ Trixie sounded determined. 

‘If I may,’ Nurse Crane twisted in the driver’s seat, ‘Nurse Mount isn’t out there on her own, she’s with Delia. And I assure you the reinforcements this van was already carrying are more than sufficient to ensure _both_ of their safe return. However, time is of the essence and I must encourage you to make your decision rapidly.’

Looking perturbed but resigned, Nurse Franklin looked directly into Barbara’s eyes, ‘Bring her back safe, alright?’ 

Barbara nodded solemnly before watching the blonde exit the van. The young spy slid the door shut as Nurse Crane gunned the engine, rocketing the van out of the gate. 

They all stood watching the van fly off down the road. After a moment or two of silence, Julienne spoke up, ‘We need to get these people taken care of. Those with bites should be transferred to the medical tent. Everyone else should be taken to the dining tent, where we can clean up any injuries and get them assigned housing.’ 

They all nodded and set to work. Evangelina was soon sent off to fetch Mr Noakes’s security team and a few stretchers to help transfer the most badly injured. 

Upon her return, she was surprised to see that the van was back. Jane, who was hovering nervously around the group, explained that it had showed up packed with refugees. Apparently, the young spies and Nurse Mount were still out there. Evangelina nodded curtly and watched as the security team began to carry the most injured towards the medical tent. 

‘And what about the other helicopters? Were they filming?’ 

Jane looked apologetic, ‘By the time I reached the other targets, they had turned so I couldn’t see.’ 

Evangelina sighed but thanked her for trying. She remained incredibly curious as to why the Redemptionists would have been filming. It certainly seemed ominous. 

She was brought back to the present by the sound of tyres spinning out as the van rocketed off again. Evangelina winced. She wasn’t sure there was any reason for Nurse Crane to drive so recklessly. It was more efficient to accelerate slowly anyway. 

Evangelina soon found herself in charge of triage and transfer, as Julienne headed to the dining tent to assist Mrs Turner with the less injured and Dr Noakes and Nurse Franklin re-located to the medical tent to begin providing more intensive care. 

As a result, she was the only staff member with the refugees waiting for transfer when the van rolled up again, the door opening to reveal another load of refugees. She was shocked to see Barbara among them, gripping the hand of a girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve. It was incredibly rare for a child to be among the refugees. Evangelina couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must have been for her to be ambushed by Reapers. She wondered where her parents were. 

Barbara and the girl hopped out of the van. The spy glanced around, looking worried, ‘Where’s Julienne?’

‘The dining tent.’ 

The brunette nodded and the two of them set off purposefully in that direction. 

Casting a quick glance over the remainder of the passengers, Evangelina called out, ‘Wait a moment. Nurse Mount and Delia aren’t here. Are they alright? The sun will be setting soon.’ 

Barbara winced almost imperceptibly, ‘They’re…’ She paused, as if uncertain of what to say, ‘They’ll be coming back soon. They wanted to make sure all of the refugees got back here first and there wasn’t room.’ And with that she turned and hurried towards the dining tent. 

The answer did nothing to alleviate Evangelina’s growing concern. 

The van roared off again, leaving Evangelina tending the most recent arrivals. Sending those who could walk to their respective tents, she worked on providing basic care while waiting for the stretchers to return. Quite a few had deep gashes from the creatures' mandibles. One woman’s arm had been completely crushed by the powerful bite. Several refugees had been badly gored by the creature’s leg spines. An older man’s leg had been shredded by what seemed to be a glancing blow from those same spines. Evangelina rushed around trying to stem bleeding where she could as Mr Noakes' team came and carried people away one by one. She was so busy she wasn't even aware of how much time was passing. 

Eventually, the van returned for a final time, slowly rolling up and coming to a stop just as the final refugee was being stretchered away. Evangelina breathed a sigh of relief as the door slid open to reveal Winifred, Delia and Nurse Mount. They were all alive. They were all conscious. 

Winifred hopped to the ground and turned to help the other two get out, looking concerned. Evangelina noticed Delia speaking softly to Nurse Mount, gently using her arms to turn the redhead towards the door. They were both covered in a film of black ooze and their uniforms still looked soaking wet. 

Seeing how cautious the other two were being with the redhead, Evangelina craned her neck to try to make out any signs of injury, but quickly realised that physical injury wasn’t the concern. Fully taking in Nurse Mount’s face, Evangelina’s heart clenched with worry when she saw that the young woman simply looked…hollow. Her eyes were blank and unseeing, her movements jerky, as if she were drunk or drugged. As Delia lowered her gently from the van, she simply slumped over. Winifred caught her, supporting her weight until Delia could slip out and grab her around her waist. 

‘Thank you Winifred. I can take it from here.’ Delia’s voice was calm, warm, ‘Alright, Pats, why don’t we get you to your tent? Get you into something dry. How does that sound?’ 

Nurse Mount seemed to rouse, looking around jerkily, ‘Gillian?’

A look of pain shot through Delia’s eyes, ‘Let’s go get you taken care of first, alright? Then we’ll go check on Gillian.’ 

The redhead simply stared at her for a moment, looking lost and confused, before slowly nodding. 

Delia gave her a small, sad smile and nodded back. 

They began to move somewhat erratically towards staff housing, Delia gripping Nurse Mount tightly as the taller woman leaned on her heavily. 

Evangelina watched them go, a feeling of concern shooting through her. She’d never seen anyone look so…empty. It was almost unnerving. Julienne should be informed immediately. 

She heard the van door bang shut behind her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, turning towards Nurse Crane. The older woman still looked completely calm, as if nothing that had happened today was in any way out of the ordinary.

‘I take it the refugees have been triaged. How may I best be of assistance?’ 

‘Dr Noakes, Nurse Franklin and Jane are in the medical tent with those who’ve been bitten. Mrs Turner and Julienne are in the dining tent with everyone else. So-’ 

Nurse Crane cut her off, ‘I shall go and relieve Julienne. Her skills will undoubtedly be of better use in the medical tent. I’ll send her right over.’ She strode off purposefully. 

Evangelina muttered under her breath as she watched her go, ‘And you’re just going to leave this bloody van right here, are you?’ She sighed, feeling a bit torn. Nurse Crane had proved herself to be capable, competent and supremely calm under pressure. But she still remained…frustrating. She’d just walked away after answering her own question, leaving the gate wide open and the van blocking the main pathway between tents. And her leadership style remained thoroughly perplexing. She hadn’t asked about Barbara. Hadn’t seemed concerned for Delia. Hadn’t checked in with Winifred. 

After closing the gate, Evangelina glanced over at the small spy. She was watching the slowly retreating forms of Delia and Nurse Mount. Evangelina felt her heart go out to the young woman. She knew Winifred cared deeply about Delia. That much had been clear in their conversation after Winifred had first approached her to nervously ask about how to become a nurse. Evangelina wondered if Nurse Crane even knew how close Winifred was to leaving her team. 

She sidled up to the young woman, speaking softly, ‘Are you alright, Winifred? Did you have to do any fighting out there?’ 

Winifred didn’t respond immediately. Eventually, she shook her head, ‘No. She was just finishing by the time we got there.’ She was silent for a long time, her brow furrowed as she stared into the sunset at the spot where they had disappeared from view. When she finally spoke again, her voice was small and uncertain, ‘They really care about each other, don’t they?’ 

Evangelina pursed her lips slightly and nodded, glancing over at the small spy. 

Winifred simply gazed into the sunset for a while longer. Finally, she sighed deeply, looking a bit forlorn. When she spoke, her voice sounded far-off, as if she was speaking more to herself than Evangelina, ‘I just…I just don’t understand… _feeling_ that way. I thought I understood what it was about, but now…’ She shook her head slightly, ‘Maybe someday I’ll meet someone who’ll help me understand how that feels.’

Evangelina’s heart ached for the young woman. She remembered how this felt. 

She spoke kindly, ‘Maybe. But not everyone does. And not everyone wants to.’

Winifred turned, eyebrows raised in surprise, ‘Doesn’t _everyone_ want that? A someone special?’ 

Evangelina shot her a soft smile and shrugged, ‘There are a million ways to show love, Winifred. A million ways to _feel_ it. We tend to focus on certain kinds, especially romantic love, but that’s a very specific kind, and it doesn’t fit everyone. It’s alright to not understand the kind of love they have. To not _want_ it. Your life, your relationships, can be just as fulfilling. Maybe someday you _will_ meet someone who’ll give you that feeling, but I never did, and I’ve never for a moment felt like my life lacked love.’ 

Winifred stared at her, looking a bit overwhelmed.

When Evangelina realized that she wasn't going to get a response from the young woman, she smiled warmly and continued. 

‘Now, speaking of kinds of love, if you’re serious about being a nurse, I think it’d be best if you came to the medical tent to assist. Nursing in a camp isn’t all patching up cuts and administering hydration packets. It’s also comforting those who’ve been bitten. Calming those who’ve seen unspeakable horrors. You owe it to yourself to see if that’s something you can do before you make the commitment.’ 

Winifred looked apprehensive but nodded before dutifully following Evangelina towards the medical tent. 

They bustled through the doors to find the tent filled with an unnerving tension, an undercurrent of terror running through the air that made it almost buzz with anxiety. Nurse Franklin and Jane were bustling from patient to patient, checking bite sites, taking temperatures, trying to calm those who were panicked. Dr Noakes and Julienne appeared to be having a quiet but tense conversation over near the doors to the prep room. 

Nurse Franklin looked up as they came in, her nurse’s façade doing an admirable job of hiding her worry and exhaustion. She made her way over towards them, speaking softly as she approached, ‘Thank goodness you’re here. We have thirteen bites in various stages of advancement.’

Evangelina nodded as she felt her stomach drop. Thirteen. That was so many. She felt her heart go out to every single one of them. Many of them would have walked for weeks, fleeing terror, yearning for a chance. For stability. For hope. And instead, they had been mercilessly attacked in an assault that had been almost…taunting. Evangelina felt rage well up in her, which she immediately tamped down. Now wasn’t the time to indulge her anger. 

Glancing around the tent, her eyes landed on a small figure perched on the edge of one of the beds, ‘What’s the young girl doing here? Did she get bitten?’ 

A look of incredible sorrow flashed across Nurse Franklin’s eyes, ‘She didn’t, but both of her parents did. Julienne thought it best to let her stay. To let her be here with them.’ She took a deep breath as she stared forlornly at the girl, ‘Her name is Gillian. Gillian Glennon. Apparently her family was moved to an Exemption Zone after her father hurt his back and could no longer work. They fled because, well, because they were starving. Apparently the Redemptionists have stopped providing adequate food supplies to the Exemption Zones, leaving the people there to fend for themselves. But because Mr Glennon had previously been working for the Redemptionists, the other Zone inhabitants were…unwilling to share.’ 

Evangelina’s eyebrows raised in surprise, ‘They’ve started putting injured loyalists in Exemption Zones?’ 

Nurse Franklin gave a little shrug, ‘Apparently. Anyway, Jane and I have been trying to make people as comfortable as possible, but still, many of them are quite far along. These new insect bites seem to cause the same symptoms as any Reaper bite, but it moves much...faster. A few of the bites have spread from extremities to torso already. And those who were bitten near internal organs, well…’ 

‘And how are they responding to the antidote?’ 

The blonde’s face pinched slightly, as if holding back judgement, ‘None of them have been given any antidote.’ 

Evangelina couldn’t hold back her shock, ‘What? Why not?’ 

‘You’ll have to ask them.’ She pointed over towards Julienne and Dr Noakes. 

Evangelina set her jaw firmly, muttering, ‘Nurse Franklin, please give Winifred here something to do for a moment. I’m sure we can use all hands on deck’ before storming over to where the two women were huddled together in the corner. She kept her volume low, but her anger and disbelief were clearly evident as she hissed out, ‘Dr Noakes, why haven’t these patients been given antidote?’ 

Dr Noakes shot Evangelina a slightly nervous glance, ‘Well, we were just discussing that, actually. Our supplies of antidote are depleted at the moment, and we only have two.’ 

Evangelina’s heart sank. She cursed how slowly the Bloc produced antidote. How loathe they were to send doses out to the camps. But still, why were those two locked away? She glanced back and forth between Dr Noakes and Julienne, ‘Surely eleven dead are better than thirteen.’ 

Dr Noakes nodded, but still looked wary, ‘Of course, but there’s also the undeniable fact that this is unquestionably a different disease.’

‘The symptoms seem the same.’ 

‘Thusfar, yes. But the original virus was limited to canid carriers. This one appears to have insect hosts. We have no idea how it may have been altered or modified. The antidote may not even work. In fact, considering the effort the Redemptionists must have put into engineering this virus, it seems highly doubtful they would have left it susceptible to the same antidote.’ 

Evangelina struggled with her emotions as she fully realised what they had decided, ‘Are you seriously suggesting that we simply leave two completely viable doses of antidote locked away? Why do we even have them if we’re not going to use them?’ 

Dr Noakes sighed, looking profoundly tired but determined, ‘We _have_ them for situations where people are brought in who’ve been infected with the original Reaper virus. The one that’s still out there, being carried by canid hosts. Given how difficult they are to produce and obtain, it seems irresponsible to use them in a situation where we don’t even know if they’ll work.’ 

Evangelina realised she sounded belligerent, ‘What’s _irresponsible_ , Dr Noakes, is letting people die because the cure _might_ not work.’ 

‘Evangelina.’ Julienne’s voice was soft but she sounded resolute, ‘I understand your frustration. We all want to save every life we can. But I fear Dr Noakes is right. We’ve had to use three doses in the last two and a half months alone to save lives. I think we have to assume the Redemptionists wouldn’t have designed a new virus that could be cured with the old antidote. We can’t risk wasting precious antidote in this situation. It’s not an easy decision to make, but I think it’s for the best. The antidote stays locked away.’ 

Evangelina’s jaw set pugnaciously as she stared hard at Julienne, ‘So that’s your final decision, is it?’ 

Julienne nodded sadly. 

Evangelina adopted a matter-of-fact tone, knowing that her supervisor would be able to read her indignation, ‘Right. Well. If that’s your decision, I suppose we should make them as comfortable as possible for their _final_ evening.’ 

Julienne flinched slightly at the emphasis, but Evangelina was too enraged to consider sparing her superior’s feelings. She bustled past both of them into the prep room, pausing as soon as she entered to lean back against the door and close her eyes, trying to control the wave of emotions that gripped her.

Sadness for those who were going to die. Fear about what this attack foretold. But most of all a roiling, barely containable _anger_. That Julienne wasn’t willing to take every possible chance to save those who needed their help _now_. That the Bloc didn’t prioritise the creation of antidote. That the Redemptionists so ruthlessly toyed with the lives of others.

Evangelina knew that she wore her anger on her sleeve, and that her resulting gruffness made her seem callous. That her tendency towards brusqueness could come across as uncaring. 

But the truth of the matter was, Evangelina was driven by a fierce love. For her chosen family. For those who had been cast aside. For those in need. The intensity of her dedication to serve and support those who others ignored was overwhelming. And the sheer weight of that love left her with little patience for those who put their own needs above others. Or who put barriers in her way. 

She thought of the antidote. The good it could do. The lives it could save. 

She thought of what lay ahead of her this evening. Watching people who had come to them for help slowly die. Trying to provide comfort in the face of unimaginable, inevitable horror. 

She took a deep breath, determined to prevent the tears that threatened to break through her resolve. She _hated_ feeling helpless. Feeling hopeless. 

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to wallow in self-pity. There was still support she could give. She wasn’t powerless. She could administer fluids. She could try to keep fevers down. She could provide comfort. She could provide love. 

Nodding resolutely, Evangelina washed her hands and then went to the cupboard and loaded up her arms with bags of saline and antipyretics. Carrying them to the door, she stood for an instant, her eyes closed, allowing herself one more quiet moment before letting out a long, controlled exhale and stepping purposefully out into the tent. It was going to be a long, painful night. 

Re-entering the room, she found Dr Noakes pulling an empty bed up next to where the Glennons lay so that Gillian could sit comfortably beside them. She placed the saline packets down and went to help manoeuver the heavy bed before getting down to work caring for their patients.

At one point, about twenty minutes later, all of medical team were huddled around the entrance of the tent, using hushed voices to discuss the status of each patient. How the disease was progressing. What was working to make them as comfortable as possible. 

A sudden hush fell over the group as the door to the tent opened and Nurse Mount walked in, accompanied by a still-sodden Delia, who stood silently by her side, holding her hand. Nurse Mount was wearing a dry uniform, but she still looked utterly spent, her skin pale, her eyes distant and glassy. She seemed entirely unaware of their presence as her eyes scanned the tent, falling on the small figure of Gillian, huddled next to her father’s bed. She gave Delia’s hand a little squeeze before releasing it and stepping purposefully forward, making her way slowly but determinedly towards the young girl. 

Evangelina opened her mouth to protest. Surely, in her current state, Nurse Mount shouldn’t _be_ here. Shouldn’t be put in the position of _providing_ support. 

But her objection was stopped in her throat by Julienne’s hand on her arm. She looked up into her friend’s profoundly sad eyes to see her softly shake her head and whisper, ‘They need each other right now.’ 

Evangelina watched with bated breath as Nurse Mount cautiously approached the bed and silently settled down about a foot apart from Gillian. They both sat there in silence for several long moments before Nurse Mount said something so softly the older nurse had no chance of hearing what it was. They spoke quietly for a short while before suddenly the young girl leaned over, resting her head in the crook of Nurse Mount’s shoulder as the redhead wrapped a protective arm around her. 

Evangelina released breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Delia snuck out the door. 

‘Alright ladies,’ Dr Noakes’ soft voice cut through the silence, ‘Let’s get back to work.’ 

As the night wore on, the virus’s effects were just as devastating as Evangelina had feared. It moved tremendously quickly, the black tendrils of deoxygenated blood spreading rapidly from the bite site like the roots of some cursed tree. She felt so impotent as she watched them expand further and further with each subsequent visit to a patient. Once they reached the torso, a painful end came with devastating speed, as each internal organ in turn protested its lack of life-giving oxygen and shut down. And yet, it still somehow felt like it went on for hours, as the patients’ fevers worsened and they often began shaking uncontrollably. The subsequent difficulty breathing accompanied by general disorientation made the entire process both scary and heart-wrenching as one-by-one the patients, terrified and confused, slowly…slipped away. 

With each passing moment, Evangelina felt herself getting pulled back into her memories. Of the waves of violence that had rocked the country fifteen years ago, leaving clinics bursting at the seams. Of the horrors that followed the release of the Reaper virus, or now, she supposed, the _first_ Reaper virus. Of other nights spent comforting the doomed. Nights she had hoped never to re-live. 

And yet, Evangelina refused to let herself step away. She _needed_ to be there for these people. To help them through their last moments, as painful as it was. 

Nurse Crane had arrived shortly after Nurse Mount and proved to be remarkably competent at providing calm, straightforward care. She and Evangelina were the only two who were able to remain steadfast in their dedication to stay by those were dying…to provide a hand to hold, an ear to hear their fears, a voice to tell them that someone was there who cared. Nurse Franklin was also committed in her care, though Evangelina noticed her frequently having to leave the tent for several moments, returning re-composed, but with red-rimmed eyes. 

Winifred and Jane proved to be entirely unequal to the task of emotional support, but they remained faithfully in the tent, fetching saline bags, cleaning up fluids, and unquestioningly jumping to complete any task requested by the nurses. Dr Noakes flitted from person to person, providing a calming energy as she drew blood and collected fluid samples to send back to HQ in the hopes that an antidote could be developed for this new version of the virus. Julienne had to frequently run to the communication tent in order to check in with HQ, but when she was there, she was relentless in her dedication to provide care, sitting beside people in their final moments, ensuring someone was there to be with each and every person. And Nurse Mount sat with Gillian, beside her parents, for the entire night. Rarely acknowledging her fellow nurses when they came to provide care, but refusing to let the young girl be alone.

About an hour before dawn, Delia returned and whispered something to Julienne who shot the small spy a warm smile before nodding her understanding. Delia then went and sat quietly in a corner, watching Nurse Mount carefully, but never intruding or even making her presence known. 

The Glennons finally slipped away just as a pre-dawn light was beginning to grace the sky, the last of the thirteen to succumb. Gillian was there, by each of their sides as it happened, to say her goodbyes. Evangelina’s heart broke for her, though she was glad the girl had been there. That she was going to be able to live without the regret of missing those final moments. She was also extremely thankful that Nurse Mount had stayed with her. It was something no child should have to go through alone. 

As soon as the Glennons passed, Delia stood and slipped out of the tent, returning a short time later with Mrs Turner. The housing coordinator approached Nurse Mount and Gillian, speaking to them softly for a few moments before they both nodded and Gillian rose stiffly, looking shocked yet determined. Trying so hard to be strong. 

The look was mirrored by Nurse Mount, whose eyes followed the young girl out of the tent. Almost robotically, she turned and looked back down at the Glennons as Dr Noakes covered their bodies with white sheets. She simply stood there staring for several moments before Delia quietly approached her, wrapping her in a protective embrace before leading her silently out of the tent. 

Nurse Franklin, Winifred and Jane were sent out shortly thereafter, encouraged by Dr Noakes to stop by the dining tent for a small snack before getting some rest. 

As she did some final cleaning, Evangelina overheard Julienne answer Nurse Crane’s question about what would happen to the young girl. Apparently, Delia had contacted an old friend, a Mrs Bissette, who was a counsellor specialising in those with trauma. Rather than being sent into the system, Gillian was going directly into the Bissette’s care. Evangelina didn’t know who these Bissettes were, but she felt a little burst of gratitude at the thought that Delia had spent the night making sure Gillian wouldn’t be lost in the system. That she would get appropriate care. 

Evangelina had always thought Delia a bit…silly. While she was undoubtedly brilliant, she seemed to occupy her time with projects that seemed at best frivolous. Record players and ovens and, rumour had it, fencing gear? Evangelina couldn’t imagine why Nurse Crane allowed Delia’s talents to be spent on such vapid pursuits. And ever since she and Nurse Mount had gotten together, the formerly serious and focused nurse had become distracted. The two of them could often be found running about giggling about who knows what. Delia had seemed nothing but a troublesome influence. 

But it appeared that she had misjudged the small spy. Today she had done nothing but showcase an ability to remain unflinchingly calm under pressure while showing an incredible amount of compassion and caring. Evangelina thought that, had her life turned out differently, Delia probably would have made quite a fine nurse. 

She was roused from her thoughts by the sound of a pan of dirty instruments being placed on the table next to her. She turned to see Nurse Crane, looking exhausted but resolute, reaching for the disinfectant. Speaking of people she had misjudged. 

Nurse Crane released a prolonged sigh, ‘I haven’t seen something like that since…’ she paused, ‘It’s been many, many years.’ 

Evangelina took a deep breath, recognising in the statement an acknowledgement of a shared past. Struggling to contain her emotions, she looked into Nurse Crane’s understanding eyes, ‘It’s never easy, is it?’ 

Nurse Crane shook her head sadly, ‘No. But we can show them how it’s done. I fear this may just be the beginning.’ 

Evangelina felt a bolt of fear shoot through hear as she processed Nurse Crane’s words. What if this _was_ just the beginning? What if these monsters were released all over the country? The Bloc’s beacons and antidote would be useless. 

The rest of the team slowly filtered out of the tent, and soon Evangelina found herself alone, sitting dazed and exhausted, simply staring at the thirteen figures lying shrouded in white sheets on the beds. The tragedy of lives snuffed out. Of dreams never to be fulfilled. Of family members who would always remain waiting. 

She released a long, weary sigh. It felt like _days_ ago that Julienne had asked her to contact Vincent for TETN. She supposed the threat Nurse Crane had been warning against wasn’t so imaginary after all. 

She shuddered as she recalled how close she had come to being bitten herself. She felt a rush of nausea as she remembered the beady green eyes, the eerily glistening body, the mandibles dripping their characteristic black ooze. 

Those… _things_ must have been the stakes Nurse Crane was talking about. And she had refused to help.

A wave of guilt washed over her. She didn’t feel bad for not trusting Nurse Crane, though the woman had grown greatly in her esteem after the events of today. She might need to apologise to Nurse Crane, but the fact remained that, up until yesterday morning, the old spy had been undeniably untrustworthy. 

But it hadn’t been Nurse Crane who had asked her. It had been Julienne. Julienne who had never let her down. Who she loved like family… _more_ than family. 

Evangelina thought of her good friend, of all she had to balance, of all of the decisions she had to make. It had always been that way, Julienne’s steady thoughtfulness allowing Evangelina to exercise her brash, judgemental certainty without needing to consider ramifications or long-term consequence. Julienne’s presence had always allowed Evangelina the freedom to be exactly who she was. 

And yet, when Julienne had asked for something, Evangelina hadn’t believed that it was important enough to override her fears. She hadn’t trusted her. 

With a sudden burst of movement, Evangelina hauled herself out of her seat. Her mistake had to be remedied. These creatures needed to be stopped. 

She made her way rapidly towards Julienne’s office. She knew her friend would still be there, processing the last twenty-four hours, assessing the damage. Evangelina would apologise…and then find Nurse Crane. 

Approaching the tent, she heard the sounds of a brash northern accent drifting out from the flap. It appeared she wouldn’t have to work to find Nurse Crane after all. Though there was no way she was going to allow the spy to hear her apology to Julienne. That would have to wait. 

As she was about to walk in, she heard a snippet of the conversation and paused for a moment to listen, curious. Nurse Crane sounded positively incredulous.

‘They’re saying that it simply…didn’t happen?’ 

‘That’s what HQ says. The Redemptionists are officially claiming that we must be lying to hide the fact that a group without a functioning beacon was attacked by Reapers.’ 

‘Surely HQ doesn’t believe that.’ 

‘No, They don’t. But I think they’re loath to escalate a conflict when the Redemptionists aren’t showing any interest in increasing violence.’ 

‘It seems a bit late for that. Thirteen people have died.’ 

Julienne made a non-committal noise, ‘Well, it appears it may be more complicated than that.’ There was a moment of silence before she continued, ‘Bloc spies deep within the Council claim that the attack was apparently unauthorised and that the Chancellor is absolutely livid.’ 

Evangelina heard Nurse Crane give a sharp intake of breath, ‘Unauthorised?’ 

A prolonged moment of silence followed. As it continued, Evangelina figured now was as good a time as any. Swallowing a bit of her pride, she called out a greeting and stepped purposefully into the tent. After giving a Julienne a brief nod, she turned to face Nurse Crane, ‘Are those… _things_ what you’re trying to stop? Is that why you need the TETN? To make sure they don’t spread any further?’ 

Nurse Crane eyed her somewhat warily, but gave a slow, purposeful nod. 

Evangelina set her jaw, ‘Alright. I’ll contact Vincent. I’ll get you your TETN. And anything else you need. Anything at all to make sure not one of those things can ever hurt anyone ever again.’ 

Obvious relief flooded Nurse Crane’s face, though she strove to hide it, ‘Thank you, Evangelina.’ 

Evangelina gave Nurse Crane and then Julienne each a brief nod before turning to make her way to the communications tent. It had been a long, utterly exhausting last twenty four hours, but she still had things to do before she could sleep. People to contact. Wheels to set in motion. Despite the risks, it was time to activate her network to stop this threat. If the attack had been unauthorised, they might still have time.


	18. Patsy Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter was getting a bit long (shocking, I know) ;) and over-full, so I've divided it into two parts. Enjoy Part 1!

Patsy sat staring sightlessly at the table in front of her. She didn’t want to _be_ here. With all of these people. Preparing to talk about the attack. She took a deep breath as she let everyone’s voices wash over her. Their lilting tones full of concern and confusion. 

Patsy felt a wave of anxiety rise up within her. She thought that she’d successfully sidestepped this kind of thing when she’d managed to dodge Julienne’s attempts at engaging her yesterday. The counsellor had approached her to see if Patsy felt the need for a session, but, feeling overwhelmed and unready, Patsy had told her that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened during the attack just yet. Which was the truth. Or at least half of it. 

Normally, Julienne never would have allowed her to get away with such outright avoidance, but the camp leader was too stressed and overwhelmed herself to push. So Patsy had gratefully avoided having to face the discussion, instead burying herself in cleaning and re-organising the food storage tent, which had suffered some damage during the attack. 

But she’d been informed in no uncertain terms that today’s meeting was mandatory, so now she sat here, feeling like she was viewing the room around her through a thick fog. She simply didn’t see the point. Talking wouldn’t accomplish anything. Talking wouldn’t change the fact that the Redemptionists had attacked. Talking wouldn’t bring back Gillian’s parents. 

Gillian. 

Patsy shook her head and tried to focus on her surroundings. Trixie to her left chatting with Chummy. Delia to her right muttering with Barbara. 

Julienne’s voice rang out, ‘Thank you all for being here. I’ve called everyone here today to allow a space to process together as a group, and also to help quell the rumours a bit. Here’s what we know for certain: three days ago, four Redemptionist helicopters launched an unprovoked attack on Camp Poplar and two groups of refugees, despite our being located solidly within the Blue Zone. HQ knows of no reason that this attack was carried out. Publicly, the Redemptionists have categorically denied that the attack took place, while privately assuring HQ that they have no desire for an escalation of hostilities at this time. Since the attack here, there have been no other large-scale attacks, and even incendiary deployments have declined.’ She paused, looking uncertain, before taking a deep breath and continuing, ‘As a result, in the interests of avoiding further bloodshed or a return to all-out war, the Bloc has decided not to take any retaliatory action at this time.’ 

A swell of discontented murmurs rose up from the camp workers seated around the dining tent. Trixie’s voice rang out louder than the others. 

‘Surely HQ can’t be serious! If there’s no response to such a blatant attack, what’s to prevent the Redemptionists from doing it again? Perhaps indefinitely. We have to mount _some_ kind of response.’ 

Julienne’s soothing voice began answering, but Patsy wasn’t interested in listening. She felt a swell of bitterness rise up within her. So the rumours were true. She supposed it was fitting that they were all gathered _talking_ , considering that the Bloc had decided that there _wasn’t_ anything to accomplish. She blocked out the shocked and angry voices swirling around her, sharpening the blade of her own indignation. 

How could HQ _possibly_ do nothing? So many people had been terrorized, terrified… killed. Patsy’s brow furrowed as snapshots of horrified faces flashed in front of her vision. Faces contorted in pain. Faces cowering in fear. The faces floated around her brain, taunting her as she tried to pin them down. To place each face in a time of battle. An action. 

Suddenly, a face leapt to the front, contorted in a scream of panic and fear. Gillian. Patsy’s heart lurched. She hadn’t gotten there in time.

Right? 

Or had she been there and still failed to protect them? 

Her eyes closed and her jaw clenched, trying to force the fog away, to make the memories clear. As if she could fill in the gaps through sheer force of will. 

She was falling back into the haze. She tried to go back to the cave. To remember. The thrumming of her heartbeat in her ears had been deafening. Her lungs felt like they would explode. Her muscles burned. But instinct overrode all of her body’s protests. Overrode her thoughts. Her memories. She heard the clacking. The screaming. She needed to kill them. To save people. To survive. 

Suddenly, an odd sensation broke through, jolting her back to the present. She looked around, momentarily confused, before realising she was in the dining tent. They were having their meeting. Winifred was talking about…something. Patsy couldn’t focus. 

She became aware that she was breathing a bit heavily, a thin layer of sweat coating her. At least the current heat wave would provide an excuse for that. Glancing down, she identified the cause of the sensation that had roused her. Delia had gently taken Patsy’s right hand, intertwining their fingers. 

She looked up and saw that Delia was eyeing her cautiously, her expressive blue eyes radiating care and concern. When she saw that Patsy was looking at her, a soft smile spread across her lips and she gave Patsy’s hand a small squeeze before silently mouthing ‘Are you alright?’ 

Was she alright? Not really. Though she had to admit that she felt _so much_ better with Delia’s hand grasping hers. It was as if Delia’s touch sent a current through her that grounded her. Made her feel calmer. Warm. 

Patsy took a deep breath and nodded, forcing herself to give Delia a small smile. There was no use in causing undue concern now. They were in the middle of a useless, interminable meeting, after all. And anyway, Patsy felt a tiny twinge of guilt at the comfort Delia’s touch gave her. She didn’t deserve that. Both because she’d failed and because, if she was entirely honest with herself, she knew that she’d been unfair to Delia for the past day. 

She somewhat reluctantly released Delia’s hand and watched as the brunette turned her attention back to whatever Winifred was saying. Patsy could tell from the tension in Delia’s shoulders that she knew something was wrong. Patsy felt a pang of regret that she was making Delia worry. 

From what Patsy could remember of the night after the attack, Delia had been almost unbelievably perfect. She could vaguely recall the brunette leading her from the van to the tent and gingerly helping her change, wiping the black ooze off of her face and hands, leading her slowly to the medical tent after what was perhaps her hundredth delirious request to see Gillian. 

And after the seemingly unending night of pain and grief and memory? Well, Delia had somehow been even more perfect. She had led Patsy’s numb and grief-stricken body to the bathhouse, where she had silently guided Patsy into the shower cubicle and then softly explained that Patsy was to take as long a shower as she wanted before they were going to get some sleep. 

It had taken Patsy’s muddled brain an embarrassingly long time to piece together that Delia must have spent the night fixing the shower to allow Patsy this little indulgence. Or really, this necessity. It had been astounding, how fabulous that shower had felt. It activated subconscious feelings of contentment that Patsy hadn’t even known she had spent the last two years missing. The feeling of having endless hot water coursing over her body, surrounding her in a blanket of warmth and steam, had been almost heavenly. 

She had no idea how long she stayed in the shower, eventually begrudgingly turning off the water not because she wanted to, but because the water pump’s thrumming had gotten softer, and her now more alert brain deduced that she’d be forced to stop soon anyway. She switched it off a bit before the battery finally ran out, intent on maintaining even the illusion of control. 

When she finally emerged, wearing the nightclothes Delia had been thoughtful enough to provide, she found the brunette there waiting, wearing a look that was both worried and hopeful. Patsy had given her a genuine smile, and the relief that had flooded Delia’s face had made Patsy’s feel like her heart might burst.

They had made their way in silence back to her tent, the calm brought on from the shower being replaced by anxiety with every step. Patsy didn’t _want_ to be left alone with her thoughts, her nightmares, her memories. By the time they’d entered her tent to find Trixie already fast asleep, Patsy’s anxiety was raging and she’d long since resigned herself to a sleepless day of reliving the terrors of the past, both recent and long-buried. 

Patsy had settled into bed, steeling herself for Delia to wish her pleasant dreams and return to her own tent, only to have the brunette crawl in silently behind her, wrapping her in a loose embrace that was more comforting even than the shower. Patsy had been completely taken aback by just how wonderful it felt to be held as she lay there. It was as if Delia’s body pressed against hers wrapped her in a protective cocoon that banished her anxiety, holding the memories and worries at bay and allowing her the freedom to succumb to her exhaustion. 

She had slept shockingly soundly through the entire day and the next night as well, finally waking at dawn to the foreign feeling of an arm slung across her chest, the sound of soft, steady breathing close to her ear. Delia’s presence had been so profoundly comforting in that instant, acting as a break, blunting the force of the wave of realisation that crashed over her. The camp had been attacked. People had died. Patsy had lost control…again. 

As if she had been able to sense Patsy’s renewed tension even through the veil of sleep, Delia had stirred, making adorable muttering noises as she unconsciously nuzzled into the redhead’s shoulder. Patsy had been shocked by the feeling of contentment that had coursed through her as she felt Delia snuggle in closer. She hadn’t known that the simple act of having someone near her could be so profoundly comforting. When the brunette’s eyes had slowly opened, filled with their own groggy contentment, Patsy had been struck by the strength of her desire to find ways to see that look over and over and over again. 

A part of Patsy had expected an inquisition, or at least a de-brief, but she should have realised by now that Delia knew better. She had simply given Patsy a peck on the cheek and generally ensured she was alright before declaring that she needed to check in with Phyllis and Julienne about how plans for work on the incendiary project had been affected by the attack. As Delia rolled out of bed, giving Patsy’s arm a squeeze before wishing her a good day, Patsy was struck by how _natural_ this felt. It wasn’t awkward or stuttering. It was smooth and… _warm_. 

For the first time, Patsy felt like she might be able to allow a certain happiness to co-exist with her grief. To let the former work to assuage the latter. To allow Delia in. To share her burden so that Delia could help it slowly become lighter. 

But then, over breakfast that morning, she had heard the rumour. Trixie claimed she’d heard it from Chummy who had heard it from Peter who had heard it from…well, someone. Trixie didn’t know who, but was sure the source was reliable. The Bloc had decided not to retaliate. Nothing would happen. The Redemptionists had launched an unprovoked attack on civilians and the Bloc had decided that it would simply…move on. 

As Patsy had walked to the food storage tent, she mulled over this piece of information. She was, quite frankly, baffled. And hurt. It had always bothered her when people tried to gain personal meaning from the pain of others, so she hadn’t wanted moments of silence or flags at half mast or other acts of performative sympathy. But still, she felt there should be some sort of acknowledgement. Of the death. Of the unprovoked nature of the attack. 

But instead, the Bloc had coldly reached the conclusion that the prevention of potential bloodshed was more important than the recognition of lives already lost. And as a result, for the survivors life was expected to simply…go on. But there were people for whom it didn’t go on, or couldn’t. The thirteen who had died. Gillian. Her.

Because as the day went on, it became clearer and clearer in Patsy’s mind that _someone_ needed to bear the burden of acknowledgement. That lives had ended. That the world had shifted. That a line had been crossed. And if no one else was going to admit that, well then, it made sense for Patsy to carry the torch. After all, she was the one who hadn’t been fast enough to save them. 

She realised that she had been profoundly selfish to think that she deserved any kind of happiness. This camp, this… _world_ wasn’t a place for such luxuries. Being with Delia had blinded her to that truth. If she was going to do justice to the memories of those she had failed, she needed to face the future, and her past, alone. Gillian didn’t have someone with her to make her feel safe and loved, and Patsy didn’t deserve that either. 

And so, at dinner she had sat between Evangelina and Peter, leaving Delia to find another seat, and that evening, when Delia had come to her tent, Patsy had told her that she would prefer to sleep alone. Delia had looked confused but nodded, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and wished her sweet dreams. Patsy’s heart had ached as she watched Delia leave, but wasn’t that the point? To suffer for those who no longer could? 

It had been an abominable night…and she had wanted Delia there _so_ badly. Had immediately chided herself for even thinking she deserved that. She’d tossed and turned, haunted by ghosts new and old, aching for some kind of absolution, but knowing that she didn’t deserve it. 

It wasn’t just the foggy memories of two days before. The screams. The Reapers. It was the undeniable fact that seeing the Glennons die had fully awakened something that had been lying dormant for years. It had been nudged by Constance’s arrival, roused more by the dance, but now it _demanded_ to be acknowledged. And it left her terrified, feeling like a lost child again, desperate for someone, anyone. 

But no, she hadn’t earned that. 

Right? 

The voices in her head told her she’d failed. People had died because she’d hesitated. She’d waited for Delia. She’d been too slow. 

She wanted to refute them, to scream at them that they were wrong, but she couldn’t because, try as she might, she simply couldn’t remember. As she lay there in bed trying to pin down her actions, to clear the thick fog in her mind, the voices in her head simply got louder and louder. Assuring her she didn’t deserve quiet. Didn’t deserve solace. 

And finally, after hours of torture, the thought she’d been trying to keep at bay broke through. It sneered as it bared its teeth and sunk them into her very soul, whispering in her ear the truth she dreaded, that the insect Reapers hadn’t been the only monsters out there that day. That the panicked faces were scared of _her_. Her brutality. Her ruthlessness. Of who she really was. 

Suddenly, she was roused by the sound of Delia’s voice. Where was she? What was happening? 

She looked around, shaking her head slightly to clear her mind. That’s right. The dining tent. The useless meeting. She took a deep breath. She’d been pulled back into her waking nightmares. She tried to focus on the conversation around her. Shelagh was talking, but hadn’t Delia just been talking? She furrowed her brow and tried to concentrate on Shelagh. 

‘…if we need to be concerned about any adverse affects for those who weren’t bitten, but who may have gotten the ooze into open wounds. There really were quite a few serious cuts in the dining tent, and a great deal of ooze about.’ 

Patsy jumped slightly as Delia started speaking. She’d been trying so intently to focus on Shelagh that a voice so close to her was truly jarring. 

‘I really don’t think that’s a concern. I got a pretty deep cut on my arm that got a fair amount of ooze in it, and I haven’t had any sort of reaction. And given my history with the virus, if I haven’t reacted yet, then I suspect it’s pretty safe.’ 

Chummy cut in, ‘That would certainly make sense with what we know about the original virus, which needed to be combined with a salivary protein to become virulent. In fact, my guess is that…’ 

The doctor rambled on, but Patsy couldn’t possibly have cared less about salivary proteins. She was now hyper-focused on Delia’s arms. 

Delia had gotten a cut? A deep cut? How could Patsy _possibly_ not have noticed? When did it happen? It must have been out by the cave. Ugh. Why had Patsy allowed Delia to come? She’d gotten a cut that had gotten ooze in it. And what if the virus _had_ been able to infect her that way? Delia would have died. Because of Patsy’s incompetence. 

Right? 

Patsy felt a surge of frustration. _Why_ couldn’t she remember? Why couldn’t she fight without losing control? She felt like she was going to explode. She needed to get _out_ of this meeting. She tried to focus again, wondering if an opportunity would present itself for her to leave. 

Julienne was talking, ‘…refugees are still being warned away from Camp Poplar for now, though I suspect we won’t be able to keep them from coming much longer. The Dales and Lake District routes remain significantly more dangerous because of the mines and we’re on one of the only cleared routes through to Carlisle. As a result, I think we need to discuss what we’re going to do about the insect Reapers that escaped by the cave. Delia, how many did you say there were?’ 

Patsy’s vision blurred as her heart dropped into her stomach. She felt like she was going to pass out. Insect Reapers had escaped? How had she allowed that to happen? This needed to be rectified. 

She was vaguely aware that Delia was saying something, but an urgent need to make this right overrode any sense of propriety she may have had. 

‘I’ll go!’ She belatedly realised that her volume must have been much louder than she intended, as everyone was simply staring at her, looking a bit baffled. Somewhere in the muddle of her thoughts, she realised that if she wanted Julienne to allow her to go, she had to come across as calm. Collected. In control. She took a deep breath and made direct eye contact with Julienne, ‘I mean, I think it makes sense that I go and kill the few remaining Reapers. I know the terrain and certainly have the skills to take care of them.’ 

Julienne looked at her searchingly for several long seconds. Patsy didn’t look away, meeting the camp leader’s steady gaze, trying to project a confidence and clarity she didn’t really feel. 

Finally, Julienne narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath, ‘Alright. You can go. But you can’t go alone.’ 

Despite the general fogginess of her thoughts, Patsy had actually been prepared for this. She knew that Delia would volunteer and she knew with a surprising amount of certainty that she had to stop her. Delia had been cut before. Patsy had failed to protect her and couldn’t be worried about protecting her again. Anyway, she needed to face her memories alone, without Delia’s comfort. She remembered the stories that Trixie had told yesterday about Barbara. About her almost unbelievable fighting skills.

‘Barbara.’ Patsy jumped in to cut off any other potential suggestions, ‘I’ll go with Barbara. Surely the two of us together can handle the few Reapers that are left.’ 

Julienne looked a little surprised, and concerned, but after staring pointedly at Patsy for a few moments, she glanced over at Barbara, ‘Barbara, is that alright with you?’ 

Patsy kept her eyes firmly on Julienne as she heard Barbara’s response. She didn’t want to look to her right, to risk seeing the hurt and confusion she knew would be in Delia’s eyes. She could hear the shock and uncertainty in Barbara’s voice. 

‘Ummm…yes. Sure. That’s fine. If it’s alright with Phyllis.’ 

‘You don’t need my permission Barbara. Whether or not you go is entirely up to you.’ 

Barbara’s voice sounded more certain this time, ‘In that case, yes. I’ll go.’ 

Julienne shot Patsy one more wary look before giving a curt nod, ‘That’s settled then. You two can head out this afternoon. Be sure to bring a beacon to ward off canine Reapers. And a radio. I don’t care if the signal isn’t secure. I want you to have a way to contact us in an emergency.’ 

Patsy nodded, hoping that signalled the end of the meeting. 

Her wish was soon granted, as Julienne wrapped things up, mentioning something about outside counsellors coming in. Patsy wasn’t paying attention, her sole focus on getting out of this tent as soon as humanly possible. The moment someone made a move to get up, Patsy shot out of her chair and headed for the exit. 

She’d made it an impressive distance from the dining tent when she heard Barbara’s voice ring out behind her, ‘Patsy! Wait!’ 

Patsy turned a bit impatiently, wanting to hide in order to avoid a confrontation with Delia…and also hoping Barbara wasn’t going to give her a talking to for volunteering her.

Barbara caught up with her, looking slightly dishevelled, ‘I just wanted to check with you about what weaponry you were planning on bringing. I figure we can travel fairly light in this case, but wanted to get your thoughts.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Patsy hadn’t been expecting that. She relaxed slightly as she launched into a clinical rundown of what she had brought before. What she was planning on bringing now. She got so caught up in the comfort of casually listing weaponry that she didn’t notice Delia approaching until the confused and irritated-looking brunette cut in front of her vision, stepping purposefully between her and Barbara. 

‘Would you care to tell me what that was about?’ 

Patsy looked down in a bit of shock, ‘Umm…I was talking to Barbara.’ 

Delia was undeterred, ‘Considering you felt comfortable blatantly and obviously excluding me in front of _everybody_ , and were undoubtedly on your way to hide somewhere, I think that Barbara can hear this too.’ She turned to Barbara, ‘Isn’t that right, Barbara?’ She whipped back around to face Patsy before Barbara had a chance to respond, ‘Now, what that was about?’ 

Patsy shrugged, hoping to worm her way out of this smoothly, ‘It wasn’t _about_ anything. It simply makes sense for the two most skilled fighters to perform mop-up duties.’ 

Delia narrowed her eyes, ‘It’s three Reapers, Patsy. _Winifred_ could handle mop-up duties. What’s _actually_ going on?’ 

‘ _Nothing_ is going on. It’s simply a case of better safe than sorry. If it’s just three Reapers, we’ll be able to handle it no problem.’ 

Delia’s words were harsh and accusatory, ‘You’re lying. You don’t want me there.’ 

Patsy was taken aback by the force of Delia’s accusation. By the hurt lingering under the irritation in her eyes. She stuttered for a moment, unused to such blunt truth-telling, and unsure of how to respond. 

Delia stepped in closer, her voice dropping, her tone becoming more vulnerable, ‘Have I done something wrong, Pats?’ 

Patsy felt a piercing bolt of guilt. Accounting for other people’s emotions was exhausting. And confusing. She’d made the decision to carry the burden of those she’d failed, but she didn’t want Delia to have to carry it too. 

She took a small step backwards, shaking her head forcefully, ‘No! You’ve done _nothing_ wrong! I just thought Barbara –’

Delia cut her off, her voice determined but with a hint of plaintiveness, ‘No, Patsy. Don’t do this. Don’t cut me out again. This isn’t about Barbara. It’s about me. Talk to me. _Please_.’ 

Patsy’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape. She felt trapped. She didn’t know how to explain. That she needed to handle this alone. That she didn’t deserve Delia’s support. That she needed to pay penance for her mistakes. She felt panic rising up within her. 

Her eyes landed on Barbara, who was standing behind Delia looking profoundly awkward. A sudden bolt of indignation shot through her. How dare Delia do this here? Now? Making both Patsy and Barbara uncomfortable. What had Delia done to earn the right to embarrass her? To embarrass both of them? Before she could stop herself, she lashed out with the one thing she knew would make Delia irate. Would make her go away. 

‘Fine. I’m bringing Barbara because I need to have someone with me who I don’t need to protect. Who can handle themselves without getting hurt.’ 

She expected Delia to be furious about having her skills questioned. About having doubt cast on her competence. And while anger was certainly there, Patsy was surprised to see that Delia’s overwhelming reaction seemed to be confusion. 

‘Getting hurt? What are you talking about Patsy?’ 

Thrown off balance, Patsy stuttered, ‘Your arm. The cut.’ Getting her legs back under her, she continued more forcefully, ‘Last time you came with me, you got cut. What if it _had_ gotten infected? I’m not taking that risk this time.’ 

Patsy noticed that Delia and Barbara were now eyeing her with almost identical looks of bafflement. Delia’s brow furrowed in concern, ‘Patsy, that’s not…’ She paused her voice now sounding more concerned, ‘Do you not remember? Pats, I can–’ 

Patsy felt a swell of panic. No. Delia couldn’t know that she didn’t remember. Delia would be relentless in her attempts to provide support. Patsy needed to make her _go away_. She cut Delia off harshly. 

‘That’s not the point. What matters is that I need to be out there with someone who I trust to handle themselves. And that’s Barbara, not you.’ 

Patsy could see from the fire in Delia’s eyes that that had done the trick. But before Delia had a chance to respond, Barbara touched her arm lightly and muttered, ‘Delia, can I speak with you for a moment? In private.’ 

Delia glared indignantly at Patsy for several long moments, her jaw clenched and her breathing slightly elevated, before finally nodding and turning away, making a noise of impatience and disgust as she did. 

Patsy watched the two of them walk away and begin chatting some distance off. As she observed what looked like a tense conversation unfolding, her initial sense of satisfaction almost immediately collapsed into shame and regret. Ugh. _Why_ did she always lash out as a defence mechanism? She and Julienne had worked so _hard_ on that. Frustration bubbled up. All of her time with Julienne had been _useless_. She couldn’t break out of old habits. Couldn’t stop the memories. Couldn’t erase the fear. And all she had done was alienate the one person who made her feel like she could get things under control. Like she was safe. 

She looked down at the ground, kicking at it forlornly. She should probably apologise to Delia, shouldn’t she? 

She paused, considering the situation further. _Should_ she? She’d wanted to go through this alone, to push Delia away, and she’d made that happen. Hadn’t that been the point? And anyway, Delia _had_ been extremely combative. She _knew_ how hard the battle must have been for Patsy. Why did she have to be so aggressive in her questioning? It was alright for Patsy to want some space. Delia didn’t have some kind of ownership of Patsy’s time. 

Patsy felt a righteous indignation grow up inside her. No. She didn’t need to apologise to Delia. Delia needed to apologise to _her_. 

Or maybe they both did. 

Ugh. This was so _confusing_. Patsy felt her stomach roiling with a mix of anger and regret. 

Barbara’s jarringly cheery voice broke through her thoughts, ‘Alright. Delia’s agreed that just the two of us should go. So, should we gather our weapons, grab a spot of lunch, and then head out?’ 

Patsy glanced around, confused. Delia was nowhere to be seen. 

‘Delia said just the two of us should go?’ Patsy sounded profoundly sceptical. 

Barbara nodded, ‘I simply pointed out that we don’t know how the Reapers might have morphed after three days, so it made sense for us to go because we’re the most skilled. She hadn’t considered that, and said she understood.’ 

Patsy’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t make any sense. Delia wasn’t someone who would give up that quickly, ‘And then she just…left?’ 

‘She said you seemed like you needed some space. She’ll see you this evening, when we get back.’ 

Patsy felt herself deflate. She _had_ wanted space, but she hadn’t wanted Delia to _want_ to give her space. Ugh. She’d managed to muck everything up entirely while also getting exactly what she _thought_ she’d wanted. Patsy gave a resigned sigh, ‘Actually, Barbara, I’m not particularly hungry. You go have lunch and then come get me when you’re ready. I’ll be in the medical supply room.’ 

Barbara gave an uncertain nod and then headed back in the direction of the dining tent while Patsy turned and trudged miserably to her task of taking stock of their severely depleted medical supplies. 

 

_______________________ 

 

Twigs cracked under their feet, setting Patsy’s nerves on edge as she and Barbara made their way slowly through the trees, on alert in case the Reapers had taken refuge in the protection of the woods. 

She noticed that Barbara seemed attentive but entirely relaxed, and wondered if Delia had said something about the location of the escaped Reapers that Patsy should have known. Or maybe Barbara was simply relaxed in these situations. Trixie _had_ said that she was almost clinical in fending off the attack three days ago. 

Three days. 

Had it really only been three days? 

Somehow it felt like it had been _years_ ago. She supposed that some of it had. 

Suddenly, Barbara’s voice broke through the silence, ‘She doesn’t need you to look after her, you know. When it comes to fighting.’ 

Patsy started, taking a moment to figure out exactly who Barbara was talking about. To pull herself out of her past, ‘I’m sorry, what?’ 

‘Delia. She may not be at your level, but she doesn’t need your protection.’ 

Patsy simply stared for a moment. She supposed that Barbara would know. They’d worked together for seven years after all. But still, ‘But what about the cut? She could have gotten infected.’ 

Patsy was surprised to see Barbara’s face break out into a rather self-satisfied smile, ‘Ah yes, the cut. That’s not really my story to tell, I don’t think, though I can assure you it didn’t happen out here. You should ask her about it. Be sure to tell her I didn’t spill the beans. She always thinks Winifred and I are out to embarrass her.’ 

Patsy furrowed her brow before realising that she was undoubtedly telegraphing her confusion. She wondered how obvious it was that she didn’t remember. Probably very. She supposed she should give some kind of response, ‘I’ll be sure to let her know.’

Barbara gave a satisfied nod, ‘And don’t underestimate her. If you waste your time worrying about her when you’re fighting, you’ll be doing both of you a disservice.’

Apparently having said her piece, the brunette turned and made her way silently through the trees. 

Patsy thought about this as she followed. She _had_ trusted Delia when they were fighting, not even considering that she would need help. At least, not during the moments she could remember. She was pleased to note that despite her worries now, her instincts had made her have confidence in the brunette’s ability to handle herself. That she could chalk up her current concerns to overthinking. And not remembering. 

Her mind wandered to ways that Delia _could_ have gotten cut. Had there been some kind of confrontation Patsy wasn’t aware of? Or maybe an accident? But then why was there ooze? 

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she was caught by surprise at how quickly they made their way through the stand of trees. Emerging at the top of an open field, they began wending their way down towards the cave. Patsy felt her anxiety rise with each step as she tried so hard to remember what had happened last time she was here. Vague memories came back to her, as if she were seeing them through a tunnel. Blood pounding in her ears, her lungs burning with exertion, her skin tingling with anticipation. 

They hopped over an old, dilapidated stone wall, turned a corner and suddenly they were there. Bodies of Reapers were still strewn about the opening to the cave, though they looked like they’d been picked over a bit by scavengers. Patsy noticed there were two canine Reaper carcasses lying among the insects. She didn’t remember canine Reapers, though she supposed she and Delia _had_ left without a beacon. 

Reaching a small rocky outcropping overlooking the battlefield, Patsy suddenly felt lightheaded, slumping down heavily onto a rock, squeezing her eyes shut. Faces floated in front of her vision. Screams sounded in her ears. Constant thrumming of helicopter rotors drowned out the clacking. She couldn’t pin anything down. She started to panic as she struggled to control her thoughts. To reign in her memories. To bring herself back to the present. 

She tried to focus on the light breeze cutting through the oppressive heat. The silence disturbed only by the distant call of some bird of prey. 

After several long minutes, Barbara’s soft voice cut through her meditation, ‘This really is quite impressive, Patsy.’ 

Patsy looked up to see that Barbara had taken a seat next to her and was surveying the scene below. 

The brunette pointed to an area just outside of the cave entrance, ‘I mean, look at that grouping there. You can see how you must have come through, slicing off their heads as you went. It looks like you managed to take out seven of them in one pass. You really must be frightfully fast.’

Patsy gazed down at where Barbara was pointing, seeing the arc of beheaded Reapers laid out. As she looked closer, Patsy began to make out all sorts of patterns in the waste that lay in front of her. Furrowing her brow her eyes darted over the field, trying to piece together what had happened. No memories came back, but as she sat there, a picture began to come together. Of where she had been. Of what she had done. 

She was so focused that she jumped when she heard Barbara’s voice, ‘Are you piecing things together?’ 

Patsy looked up to see that Barbara was eyeing her kindly, a slight smile on her lips. Patsy wasn’t sure what she should say. How much she should reveal. 

Barbara took a deep breath and looked out at the carnage again, ‘I can help you, you know, to be able to fight without losing control. So that you can remember afterwards.’ 

Patsy felt her stomach drop. Well, she supposed that answered the question of how obvious her lack of memory was. 

Barbara continued, sounding disarmingly casual, ‘It’s actually not uncommon for Redeemers to black out when they fight. I imagine it must have something to do with the harshness of the strategies they use to train you. I think your brains shut down as a defence mechanism.’ 

Panic and curiosity fought for control of Patsy’s brain. How did Barbara know? Had Delia told her? And other Redeemers lost control? She stuttered out the first question that came to her mind, ‘How did you know?’ 

Barbara smiled, ‘Delia didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ve obviously received training, and it wasn’t from the Bloc. It’s fairly obvious, though I actually wasn’t sure if you were a Redeemer or something…more. A class we’ve never run into before.’ 

‘Another class?’ Patsy’s confusion was written across her features. 

Barbara glanced at her at bit disbelievingly, ‘If all Redeemers could do what you can do, Patsy, the Bloc would have been beaten long ago. I’ve fought _many_ of them, and none of them could have done what you did here. None of them could have saved those refugees like you did.’ 

Patsy let Barbara’s words wash over her. She had saved people. Or at least some people. And next time, maybe she could remember.

‘You could really help me learn how to control it?’ Patsy hated how hopeful she sounded. How child-like. 

Barbara nodded, ‘Mmhm. We could work together. Spar. Fight. Push your boundaries and then work on pulling back when you feel control slipping. It would take time, but I would be willing to help you, if you wanted.’ 

‘That’s all there is to it?’ 

‘It sounds simple, but it’s not easy. And if I were you, I wouldn’t do it with Delia, if that’s what you’re thinking. Your emotional connection would complicate things, and also…well, if you push the boundaries of your control with Delia you might hurt her. You’re not going to hurt me.’ 

Patsy eyed her a bit sceptically, ‘I don’t know, Barbara, if I get out of control, I can get dangerous.’ 

Barbara shook her head, looking certain, ‘Not to me.’ 

‘How can you be sure?’ 

Barbara shot Patsy a small smile and hoisted herself to her feet, ‘Because if all Bloc soldiers could what I can do, the _Redemptionists_ would have been beaten long ago.’ She extended a hand to Patsy to help her up, ‘Think about it, but in the meantime, we should see if we can find these escaped Reapers of yours. It’s impressive, really, that you could be terrifying enough to make three creatures bred for the sole purpose of hunting down humans run away in fear.’ 

Patsy felt dread seep through her veins. If the Reapers had been terrified, how must the humans have felt? 

She followed Barbara warily down towards the cave entrance, ears listening for the tell-tale clacking, eyes peeled for signs of movement; the acrid scent of decay got ever-stronger as they descended. The Reapers should be drawn to them. In fact, they should already have attacked. Something was wrong. 

Suddenly, an odd noise reached her ears. It was a strange rasping sound, a bit like the combination of a creaking door and a prolonged wheeze. Patsy could tell from the way Barbara’s body tensed that she had heard it too. It got louder as they approached a cluster of rocks. 

Barbara turned to Patsy and silently indicated that they should approach from opposite sides of the rocks, ambushing whatever it was on her signal. Patsy nodded and crept to the right, glancing over at Barbara, awaiting the brunette’s command. 

When Barbara motioned to attack, Patsy leapt out, blade at the ready. She was shocked to be greeted not by the terrifying beast she was expecting, but instead a collapse husk of a creature, slumped over on its side. The sound seemed to be coming from where it was forlornly rubbing its hind leg on its body. 

Patsy stared, completely taken aback. What had happened? 

Barbara walked around to the front of the Reaper, giving a satisfied nod, ‘Well, this certainly lines up with what we would expect.’ 

Patsy stared at her, a bit baffled, ‘Does it?’ 

Barbara shot her a small grin, ‘As I suspected. I take it you weren’t listening to Winifred during the meeting?’ 

Patsy shook her head, feeling a bit as if she’d been caught misbehaving. 

Barbara shrugged, ‘That’s a shame, it was actually quite interesting. She was saying that insects can’t get this huge out in nature because they don’t have lungs. Instead they have openings in their exoskeleton that allow oxygen to flow passively throughout their bodies. If they get too large, oxygen can’t be effectively distributed to their cores. One possible way to counter that is to keep the insects in an extremely high-oxygen environment in, say, a lab. But once insects this size got out into the world, into our regular atmosphere…well, they would basically slowly suffocate.’ She looked back down at the Reaper, pulling a large knife out of a sheet on her hip, ‘And it appears that she was right. Though I suppose we should take care of it anyway. Just in case.’ She leaned over and drove the knife forcefully into its head, ‘There. Let’s see if we can find the other two.’ 

They searched the battlefield until they came upon the second one near the entrance to the cave. It began trying to move its legs as they approached, attempting to lift its body off of the ground. Patsy gazed down at it, unsure of how exactly she should feel. Barbara seemed to pick up on Patsy’s uncertainty. 

‘Umm, why don’t I wander about and see if I can find the other one. You take a few moments here.’

Patsy nodded numbly, staring down at the creature as it tried in vain to lift its back legs and clack its mandibles. Finally giving up, it released a sort of long, creaking wheeze as its body fully collapsed. 

Despite all of the damage they had done, how horrifying they were, Patsy couldn’t help feeling a bit bad for it. This monster created through manipulation for the sole purpose of inflicting pain on those who couldn’t defend themselves. That hadn’t even been given the tools to survive outside of Redemptionist control. She could understand how that felt. 

Sighing deeply, she raised her blade and swiftly sliced of the Reaper’s head. At least she could put it out of its misery. 

Patsy took a moment to step back and survey the carnage, the smell of rotting flesh sitting heavy in the hot air. Slowly, she made her way to the cave entrance and simply stood there, trying to push away the incessant voices of doubt and retribution. She had killed all of these Reapers. She had _saved_ people.

But not all people. 

Somehow, despite the fogginess of all of her other memories, now that she was here she could remember Gillian’s face, contorted in fear as she hid in the back of the cave peeking out over her mother’s shoulder. The fear turning to terror as the Reaper latched on to her mother’s arm. Patsy closed her eyes. She had saved people, but she hadn’t saved _them_. And now Gillian was all alone, having watched her family die.

A rustling noise brought her back to the present and she turned to see Barbara standing awkwardly at the cave entrance, obviously aware that she had intruded.

‘I found the other one and it’s taken care of. Should we head back, or do you need more time here?’ 

Patsy took a deep breath and glanced out over the field of decay. No. She didn’t need more time here. In fact, she needed to leave. To get back to the comfort of Camp Poplar. To organising and cleaning and nursing. To things that could take her mind off of her memories. 

‘No. Let’s go back.’ 

Barbara nodded and began making her way back up towards the trees. As she passed an insect Reaper corpse, she wrinkled her nose, ‘Not only do they not live very long, but they sure do smell awful once they’re dead.’ 

They don’t live very long. 

Looking out over the macabre scene in front of her, a thought began to worm its way through Patsy’s emotional turmoil, to niggle the back of her mind. Why _would_ the Redemptionists have attacked with a Reaper that couldn’t survive past a few days? Surely they couldn’t hope to produce these monsters in quantities that would make something so short-lived an effective weapon long-term. No, it was likely that this version was simply a prototype. But why would the Redemtionists have shown their hand if all they had was a prototype? It didn’t make any sense.

As she turned to follow Barbara back to Camp Poplar, Patsy resolved to keep her ear to the ground. Something odd was definitely going on. 

 

_____________________

 

Even with her eyes closed, Patsy could feel Trixie’s eyes boring into her from across the tent. 

Patsy had returned from the cave, grabbed a snack from the kitchen tent and then plopped down on her camp bed, trying to control the maelstrom of thoughts that raged through her head. She had been lying there, taking long, measured breaths, for about half an hour when her roommate had returned for the night. Ever since then, Trixie had been doing her best to goad Patsy into engaging her, clanking the bowls on her bureau, pointedly clearing her throat, casting world-weary sighs in Patsy’s direction. 

Finally, Patsy decided that there was no reason to continue delaying the inevitable. She’d have to get up to brush her teeth soon anyway. She heaved herself up into a sitting position with a laborious sigh of her own, ‘Is there something I can help you with, Trix?’ 

Now that she had Patsy’s attention, Trixie took on a manner of casual unaffectedness, simply shrugging and mildly stating, ‘I was just wondering if Delia was going to come wish you good night, that’s all.’ 

Patsy rolled her eyes. As she suspected. Ugh. She did _not_ want to have this conversation right now. 

Patsy’s tone was harsh and dismissive, ‘I suppose that’s up to her. Given how late it is, it appears not.’ 

Trixie’s tone stayed light, but she shot Patsy a withering look, ‘And why do you think that might be, Patsy?’ 

‘I take it you two have spent the afternoon _gossiping_.’ Patsy couldn’t hide the bitterness from her tone. 

Trixie’s entire demeanour morphed. She tensed, looking insulted, as her tone mirrored Patsy’s, ‘Patience Mount, don’t speak about either me or gossiping with that tone. I haven’t even spoken to Delia today. I was perfectly capable of figuring out that she must be angry at you myself, given your beastly behaviour towards her during the meeting today.’ Patsy opened her mouth to respond, but Trixie held up a hand, stopping her, ‘Don’t even try to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. It was blatantly obvious your idea to go and kill three debilitated Reapers was spontaneous, and your choosing Barbara to accompany you was utterly transparent. You announced to the entire camp that you didn’t want Delia with you two days after she was bloody near perfect in supporting you. And now you’re going to tell me what possessed you to be so unspeakably rude.’ 

Patsy huffed, feeling defensive, ‘I don’t understand why I _needed_ to bring Delia with me. We aren’t connected at the hip. We can be independent.’

‘This isn’t about you two being connected at the hip. It’s about you having the decency not to embarrass her in front of the entire camp.’ 

‘I didn’t mean to embarrass her. I just…’ Patsy didn’t know how to explain it, and didn’t feel like she had the emotional energy to try. She just wanted to be left alone. And what right did Trixie have to push her anyway? She clenched her jaw, her tone consciously pugnacious, ‘You wouldn’t understand.’ 

Trixie narrowed her eyes in defiance and took a deep breath, ‘Let’s see how close I can get, shall we? When you went out to the cave, _something_ happened, something that brought up painful memories…probably of something that you’re ashamed of. And after you came back, once it really started to sink in, you realised that you had been ignoring something that you couldn’t push away anymore. That told you that you need to pay a penance. And so you made the decision to pull away from Delia. To punish yourself for ever thinking that you had the right to be happy.’ She paused for a moment, her glare piercing Patsy’s very soul, ‘Am I in the ballpark?’

Patsy simply stared, completely uncertain of how to respond. How had Trixie known? Had Patsy talked in her sleep?

Trixie’s face softened, her tone calmer and a bit self-satisfied, ‘Don’t look so shocked, Patsy. I know what a relapse feels like.’ 

‘This isn’t a relapse.’ Patsy mumbled, feeling an odd need to distance herself from Trixie’s experiences. 

‘Not like mine, no, but the mechanics appear largely the same. You work to get over a negative behaviour, begin to succeed, and then something happens that pushes you back over into that negative space. That erases the work you’ve done. And then shame compounds on shame and soon you’re back where you were at the beginning. Sound familiar?’ 

Patsy looked down at her hands, feeling unpleasantly defensive. She was aware she sounded petulant, ‘I’m not back to where I was at the beginning.’ 

Trixie let out a long, weary, sigh. When she spoke, her voice was softer, ‘No, Patsy. You’re not. But you _are_ turning away from something wonderful, some _one_ that makes you happy, because you’re listening to the voices telling you that you don’t deserve it.’

Frustratingly, Patsy felt tears beginning to well up. She absolutely _wouldn’t_ cry in front of Trixie. Steeling herself, she forced them back down, assuring herself that Trixie simply didn’t understand. Patsy needed to face this alone. She turned to Trixie with renewed determination, ‘You don’t understand, Trixie, I _don’t_ deserve it.’ 

Trixie furrowed her brows, the irritation returning to her eyes, ‘I know we’ve never talked about your past, and I’m never going to ask, but if this is about what happened at the cave, then you’re wrong. You _saved_ people out there. Without you, _all_ of them would have died. You couldn’t save everyone, but you shouldn’t punish yourself for that.’

Patsy shook her head, ‘It’s not just about that.’ 

‘Well then you need to seriously consider how much control you want _whatever it is_ to have over your life. Because you’re denying yourself the opportunity for something truly special.’ 

‘But don’t you see, Trix, that’s the problem.’ Patsy’s voice was shriller than she wanted it to be, ‘I was so bloody _happy_! In this world full of pain and just so much…awfulness, I let myself forget. I let myself feel so open and free and… _happy_. But that’s so bloody _selfish_. I was taking time from working and helping and fighting in order to act like a teenager. I can’t do that anymore. This world doesn’t have space for that.’ 

Trixie was silent for a few long moments before she let out a long exhale as she sat slowly down on the bed opposite Patsy, ‘You know, Patsy, not too long ago I would have agreed with you. I even yelled at Chummy for telling me to enjoy some sweet peas from Monica Joan’s garden this spring because it felt like this world was too bloody awful for frivolous joys. That every moment of happiness I allowed myself was somehow betraying those who were imprisoned or sterilised or forced into marriage.’ 

Patsy glanced up, curious, ‘But you don’t think that now?’ 

Trixie shook her head.

‘What changed your mind?’ 

‘You did, actually.’ 

‘Me?’ Patsy couldn’t hide her shock.

Trixie smiled softly and nodded, ‘The day after Delia’s Reaper bite, when you and Barbara and Winifred made her the dragon so she could chase Freddie. You reminded me of the human capacity for caring. For _joy_. And that’s so powerful, Patsy. To remember to leave space in your life for joy. For happiness. Because that’s what the Redemptionists are trying to take from us. With every refugee they drive to us, every horror story we hear, every incendiary attack, they’re trying to wear us down. Exhaust us. Deny us the capacity for happiness. But we can fight that by remembering that we not only need, but we _deserve_ moments of happiness. Because we all work bloody hard to make our little bit of difference in this horrible world, and we all need something more just our work.’ 

Patsy furrowed her brow. That didn’t seem right. Who was going to carry the torch for those who’d been killed? What would happen if she also simply moved on? 

‘I can tell that you don’t fully believe me, and that’s fine. The last word I’ll say about _you_ is that it’s not your job to pay penance for the acts of others. Recovery is hard enough without taking on burdens that aren’t ours to carry. But I _am_ going to push you about Delia, because while you may have decided to punish _yourself_ , it’s not that simple anymore. Someone else is involved. And now Delia’s being hurt by a decision she had no choice over. And _that’s_ what’s selfish, Patsy, hurting someone who cares deeply for you because of your own issues. Can’t you see that?’ 

Patsy simply stared, a gnawing feeling of dread slowing pulsing through her. Now that Trixie had laid it bare before her, she felt like an utter fool for having been so blindly selfish. For failing to take even the tiniest step to think about how all of this would have made Delia feel. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What could she say? Shame coursed through her. 

Trixie leaned forward and took her hand, ‘Go and apologise to her. She’s bound to be quite confused at the moment, but I’m sure that she’ll understand. She obviously cares very deeply about you.’ 

‘But Winifred…’ Patsy knew Trixie was right, but didn’t want to try to apologise in front of Winifred. 

Trixie grinned, a glint of mischief in her eye, ‘Don’t worry about Winifred. Barbara should be distracting her with a conveniently-timed electronics emergency for another…’ Trixie glanced at her watch, ‘Thirty minutes or so at minimum. Delia’s in her tent alone and available to accept an apology.’ 

‘You mean this has all been a set-up?’ Patsy was torn between being affronted and grateful. 

Trixie shrugged, ‘Of sorts. Barbara and I just thought you two needed a chance to clear the air. Delia has no idea.’ 

‘Trixie I…’ Patsy didn’t know what to say. She felt overwhelmed. Eventually she settled on, ‘Thank you.’ 

Trixie nodded, ‘Thank me by going and making things right. I need to live vicariously, remember, and all this moping simply will not do.’

Patsy shot her roommate a small smile and darted out of the tent. She had thirty minutes to try to fix this.


	19. Patsy Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I posted this chapter, realized I'd forgotten to put in something important, and then deleted it so that I had the time to add it in. I'm so sorry for any confusion that may have caused. I hope you enjoy this (complete) version of Part 2.

Patsy felt her heartbeat quicken with each step she took, panic rising in her chest. She’d been so hopeful when she’d left Trixie. Yes, she’d allowed her own emotions to blind her to Delia’s needs, but she was going to apologize. She was going to figure out what to do to make things right. 

But the closer she got to Delia’s tent, the more doubts began creeping in. What if she’d already ruined things? She seemed to consistently repay Delia’s kindness and support by shutting down and shutting the brunette out. What if this time it was just too much? 

The walk gave her too much time to think, and by the time she reached the tent, she was on the verge of tears, so filled with shame and regret for so _many_ things. Craving forgiveness but still unsure that she really deserved it. She stood just outside the tent for several long moments, trying to get her emotions under control. 

Finally, taking a deep breath, she knocked on one of the poles by the entrance and stuck her head in. 

Delia looked up from where she was lying on the bed fiddling with a sprayer. Upon seeing it was Patsy, she looked mildly surprised and just the slightest bit wary. Seeing that wariness shattered Patsy’s composure and her voice cracked as she leaned against the pole and said the words she hoped weren’t too late. 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

Delia’s eyes softened and a small, sad smile graced her lips, causing such a surge of relief that Patsy couldn’t breathe for a moment. Delia sat up and silently patted the bed, an invitation that Patsy gratefully accepted, lowering herself carefully next to Delia, just far enough away that they weren’t quite touching, wanting to give Delia space. 

Delia didn’t say anything, just looked at Patsy expectantly. The redhead felt uncomfortable but also profoundly grateful. Reflecting, Patsy realized that it was surprising that she didn’t have more practice with apologies. She supposed a combination of stubbornness and not being afraid to push people away had never really made them a requisite. But now, it felt like _so much_ was riding on what she said next, and she found herself wishing she had more experience. 

She began, stuttering slightly, ‘I’m…I’m just _so_ sorry that I embarrassed you in front of everyone and then lashed out at you in front of Barbara. You deserve so much better than that.’ She paused for a moment, looking down at her hands, ‘You were right, I didn’t want you with me, but not for the reasons I said. I _do_ trust you to handle yourself. I trusted you during the attack and I would trust you in the future. I said those things because I was trying to make you go away and I knew they would anger you the most. But that’s neither kind nor fair, and I’m so sorry.’ 

After several long moments, Delia’s voice, sounding quiet and nervous, broke the silence ‘Why _didn’t_ you want me with you, Patsy? Why did you want me to go away?’ 

Patsy shrugged, feeling a bit confused. Wasn’t Delia supposed to acknowledge her apology? To assuage her guilt? Wasn’t that how apologies worked? Her confusion caused a rush of protective instinct, followed almost immediately by a bloom of guilt. Delia was asking valid questions, and maybe she needed answers before she could forgive. But still, Patsy already felt so vulnerable. She needed to be certain of forgiveness before opening herself up completely. She stared at her hands, mumbling, ‘Going back to the cave was just something I felt like I needed to do alone, emotionally.’ 

Delia didn’t respond, and when Patsy looked up, the brunette was eyeing her with an expression she couldn’t quite place, but she knew it wasn’t forgiveness. Patsy felt anxiety thrum through her. She wasn’t going to get absolution. She’d messed things up too badly. 

After what seemed like endless silence, Delia took a deep breath, seeming to deflate as she exhaled. She spoke to her hands in her lap, ‘Thank you for coming to apologize, Patsy. Though I think I know the _real_ reason you didn’t want me to come with you, and I wish you felt comfortable being honest with me.’ 

Patsy felt a combination of defensiveness and panic clench at her gut. That _had_ been the real reason, if the barest bones version of it. But it was true she wasn’t being as honest as she could be.

Delia continued, ‘I’ve thought a _lot_ over the last day about why you would be pushing me away…sitting apart at meals, asking me to leave your tent, not wanting me with you at the cave…and I think I need to apologize to you too.’ 

Patsy’s brow furrowed. _This_ was an unexpected turn of events. 

‘The day after the attack, when I walked you back to your tent, I shouldn’t have gotten into bed with you without asking your permission. It was forward and presumptuous and obviously crossed a line that you weren’t comfortable with. I’m so sorry that I made you uncomfortable. It was just…after the fight, seeing you so distant, so _empty_ was really really hard. And then you came out of the shower and smiled and _you_ were back and I just…I didn’t want to let you go. I wanted to hold you close forever, so that you’d never go away again. I wish I had better reasons for doing it, but I was just being selfish. I’m sorry and I understand why you want space. I’m also sorry I approached you so aggressively after the meeting. I think even then I knew what I’d done was too much, and I was feeling guilty on top of feeling embarrassed. I’m sorry for speaking to you that way in front of Barbara.’ 

As she finished her speech, Delia looked up into her eyes and Patsy could see the sorrow and regret there. And the fear that she had crossed an insurmountable line. Patsy felt like she had been punched in the gut as a searing bolt of realization ripped through her. Patsy’s inability to consider Delia’s feelings had done more than make her angry. It had made her feel guilty…and scared. _Of course_ Delia would think she had done something wrong; she was motivated by guilt. Patsy cursed her inability to communicate. Her lack of practice with any kind of openness. 

Well, she might not have any practice with it, but now seemed as good a time as any to start trying. She reached over and took Delia’s hands in hers, some previously unknown instinct telling her that physical contact was important right now. 

‘Oh Delia, it wasn’t that. Please don’t think it was that. You holding me that day it was…it was the most comforting thing I’ve ever felt. It allowed me to sleep feeling safe, to shut out the demons. Last night, without you with me was just…well…it was atrocious. I couldn’t sleep and I wanted you with me so badly. I can see why you would think that your getting into bed with me may have had something to do with my behaviour, but I meant what I said before. You did _nothing_ wrong. In fact, the shower, the snuggling, the support, it was all just…perfect.’ 

Relief flooded Delia’s face, her eyes hopeful, ‘Really?’ 

Patsy nodded, a shy smile slipping across her features. 

Suddenly Delia’s brow furrowed and confusion replaced relief, ‘Then why have you been pushing me away?’

Patsy looked down at their joined hands, suddenly feeling very foolish. When she spoke, her voice was small, ‘I heard the rumour that there wasn’t going to be any retaliation for the attack, that we were just expected to move on, and I convinced myself that _someone_ needed to be the one to carry the torch. To acknowledge what had happened. And part of that felt like it needed to be distancing myself from you, because being around you, _with_ you, makes me so happy. But it didn’t feel like I _could_ be happy, if I was going to be the one that bore the burden of remembering them.’ 

‘Oh Pats,’ Delia reached up her hand and gently stroked Patsy’s cheek, ‘You’re not carrying that burden by yourself. Every single person in this camp is carrying it too. What happened…the attack, the deaths…touched everyone. Each person has their own way of showing it, but if you’d been in a place emotionally to watch people at the meeting, you could have seen that no one is simply _moving on_.’

‘They’re not?’ Patsy had never considered that. The attack had felt too personal for her to imagine that others could possibly be feeling the way she was.

‘Of course they’re not. It’s not the kind of experience someone can simply move on from. People are feeling angry and hurt and betrayed and confused and sad. Everyone’s carrying all of that with them. That’s what the meeting was about. Helping people understand that everyone’s feeling those things. And that sharing that burden with other people who understand your frustration and rage and sorrow can make it easier. You don’t have to isolate yourself.’ 

‘But Gillian doesn’t have anyone to share that burden with. It feels so selfish to surround myself with support when she’s so alone.’ 

Delia shook her head slightly, ‘Gillian may have lost her parents, Patsy, but she’s not alone. She hasn’t been for any step of the way. She had Barbara to get her to the camp and you to sit by her side with her parents and Shelagh to be with her after, and now she has Abigail and Terrence. And while no one can replace her parents, she’s not alone. She has support and she knows there’s a community that cares for her. And you deserve that too. And as for being happy–’

Patsy smiled and gently squeezed Delia’s hand, ‘Actually, I just got a rather stern lecture from Trixie on the importance of allowing myself happiness, so I already feel thoroughly chastised on that front.’ 

Delia smiled back, removing her hand from Patsy’s cheek and grasping both of the redhead’s hands with hers, ‘Well, I suggest you heed her advice. That Trixie has a good head on her shoulders.’ She paused for a moment, ‘But did you hear what I said? No one should have to go through this alone, not you, not Gillian…not me.’ 

Patsy raised her eyebrows, a bit confused by this last addition. 

‘Yes, Pats. Me too. Camp was attacked by giant, supremely creepy insects.’ Delia paused for a moment and looked away, suddenly distant. When she spoke again, her tone was sombre, ‘I watched people die. I watched you…I don’t know… _disappear_. It was…a lot.’ She turned to face Patsy again, ‘And I’ve been processing things with Barbara, and Phyllis has been wonderfully supportive, and the group meeting was great, but…well…I’ve missed you. When I woke up yesterday morning, I realized that there was going to be so much to process, but it felt like it was going to be alright because I thought I was going to you through it with _you_ , Pats. Together. But then you pushed me away, and I just felt so…alone. And so guilty.’ 

Patsy felt a horrible gnawing feeling creep up through her gut. How could she possibly have been so selfish and blind? To be the cause of so much of Delia’s pain? After she had already gone through so much? She looked down at their joined hands, ‘I’m so sorry, Deels. I really thought I needed to carry on their memory alone. That I owed it to the people who had died to do it myself. I never wanted you to have to share that burden.’ 

‘That’s not a decision you can make for other people. And anyway, when it comes to me, it’s not that simple anymore. How you feel, how you act, affects me. And I _want_ it to. I _want_ to be a part of your life. I want you to be able to share your struggles with me, and I want to be able to tell you mine. I don’t need your protection, physically or emotionally. It’s _so much_ harder when you cut me out. I just…need you to trust me. Do you think you can do that, Pats? Trust me enough to not cut me out?’ 

Patsy simply stared at Delia for a moment, considering, before giving a small nod. It surprised her, really, how ready she felt to acquiesce. To trust. She really had no idea what she had done to deserve someone like Delia. And while she didn’t yet entirely believe that she was worthy of it when Gillian had lost so much, she decided that she was done turning away from Delia’s support. She was done cutting her out. She took a deep breath, ‘I _do_ trust you, Deels. Really, I do. I’m sorry I’m not very good at…well…anything involving emotions, really. I promise to try and get better. You deserve better. Thank you for being patient with me.’ 

Delia smiled and moved her hand to under Patsy’s chin, slowly pulling her in, and placing a soft, light kiss on her lips that temporarily quelled Patsy’s anxiety, leaving her feeling calm, open. 

‘You’re still figuring things out, but you’re better at it than you think. And I’m always willing to be patient while you work through things. What I _want_ is you, and you’re worth being patient for. And thank _you_. For trusting me.’ 

Patsy looked down, feeling honoured, but also a bit guilty. Delia had said the attack had been a lot to process, and Patsy had spent the better part of the last day providing the opposite of support. She cleared her throat, grasped Delia’s hands tightly in hers, and looked up into her eyes, trying to exude supportiveness, ‘Is there anything _you’d_ like to talk about now? About how the attack has made you feel?’ 

Delia stared at her searchingly for a few moments, as if trying to decide exactly how much to say. Finally, she released a weary sigh and shifted her eyes to their joined hands, ‘Are you sure you feel up for this now? I know you had a terrible night last night and if you’re too tired…’ 

Now it was Patsy’s turn to reach up and cup Delia’s jaw with her hand, turning her head so she could look into her eyes, ‘I’m absolutely sure. I want to be here for you too, Deels. I’ve done a bloody terrible job of it so far, but I want to try to make it better. It’s not too much.’ 

Delia furrowed her brow slightly and considered this for a moment, before apparently deciding to trust Patsy’s self-assessment. She turned her head slightly to lightly kiss Patsy’s palm before reaching up and taking Patsy’s hand in hers, returning them both to her lap. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned back to Patsy, speaking softly, ‘Well, to be honest, it’s been really hard. I’ve been worried about you, of course, and feeling guilty about that. But it’s more than that.’ She moved her eyes down, staring at a spot on the floor, ‘I’ve been doing work that’s brought me into contact with some of the worst the Redemptionists have to offer. I’ve seen immoral experiments and torture and people held prisoner. But that…how they diverted a helicopter to drop those monsters on a completely unprotected group of innocent civilians. Not to garner information or for any kind of strategic reason whatsoever. Just to kill people in the most terrifying, torturous way possible. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything quite like that. And Evangelina said at the meeting that they were _filming_ the attack, and…I don’t know. It’s just hard to imagine existing in the same world as that level of callousness. Of _viciousness_. It makes you wonder if humanity is really worth saving, if we’re capable of doing things like that to each other.’ 

Delia looked so very hopeless and forlorn, and Patsy wasn’t sure _what_ to say. She’d never really thought about a greater purpose, or even a reason, for her actions. She helped people because there were people who needed help, not because she was under the impression that it would somehow save the world in any kind of grand scheme. Finally, she decided simply to tell the truth of what kept her going. What made her stay in this camp, despite the grinding repetitiveness of the pain that she saw. 

She gave Delia’s hand a small squeeze, speaking slowly and deliberately, ‘Humans are capable of the ghastliest things. I’ve seen so many, and done some too. And I know it seems like history, writ large, is nothing but stories of people treating each other terribly, and it makes you wonder if its even worth doing anything at all. But we’re not working to save _humanity_ , Delia. We’re working to save _people_. Individuals who are hurting or struggling and who need our help. I honestly don’t know whether it’s worth you working to save humanity. I don’t know if humanity has earned that. But _people_? People are worth saving.’ 

Patsy looked down and felt a jolt of concern shoot through her when she saw that Delia’s eyes were glistening with tears. She had made Delia cry. ‘Oh Delia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—’ 

Delia smiled up at her and shook her head lightly, cutting her off, ‘No, Pats, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…’ she looked searchingly in Patsy’s eyes for a moment, ‘you really are a sort of angel, you know that?’ 

Without waiting for a response, she scooted over and snuggled into Patsy’s side, resting her head against the crook of Patsy’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tightly around the redhead. Delia released a long, shaky sigh as she nestled in. 

Patsy froze for the briefest of moments before leaning into the embrace, enveloping Delia in a warm, encompassing hug. They stayed like that for several long moments, Patsy revelling in the feeling of Delia in her arms. 

Finally, Patsy muttered softly, wanting to make sure, ‘You’re alright, though?’ 

Delia released a stifled noise that sounded like a chuckle, or maybe a sob, Patsy couldn’t quite tell, but she didn’t want to loosen her hold so she could see. Eventually, she could feel Delia take a deep breath, and her muffled voice floated up to Patsy’s ears.

‘I will be,’ she paused, ‘I feel so much better, just being here with you. Being around you makes me happy too. And I’m so grateful we’re going to be able to go through this together. It makes it feel like it’s going to be alright.’ 

Patsy smiled and held Delia closer, ‘I’m the same.’ 

Patsy wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, basking in the comfort of being held. But eventually, Delia released her hold and leaned back, looking Patsy in the eye. She looked calm, but thoughtful. 

‘Is there anything that _you_ want to talk about now, Pats? You mentioned not being able to sleep. Is it because you can’t remember what happened? Or because of memories it brought back?’ 

Patsy stared back at her for a moment, before sighing deeply. She supposed this was as good a time as any to test her resolution to not cut Delia out, ‘A little bit of both, I suppose. Though it’s incredibly difficult, not being able to remember what I _did_. I can’t quiet the voices saying that people dying was my fault because I have nothing to refute them with. Being out there, seeing where it happened, helped, but not enough.’ 

Delia gave her hand a small squeeze, ‘Do you want me to tell you?’ 

Looking resolutely down at their joined hands, Patsy nodded. She wanted that so much, it was overwhelming. 

‘Well, first off, I’m not sure what you think was your fault, but you were nothing but heroic out there, Pats. How much of the attack do you remember? So I know which bits to fill in.’ 

Patsy furrowed her brow, ‘Well, I can’t be sure, but I _think_ I remember everything up until we entered the trees to go after the second group of refugees. Being the in bathhouse with you, and hearing the helicopters, and fetching our weapons. I remember Nurse Crane having a rather impressive flamethrower. I vaguely remember fending off the attack, the Reapers leaving, running out when we saw the refugees, though all of that feels a bit like a dream.’ She looked down, feeling embarrassed, ‘I remember trying to tell you that you couldn’t come with me. And then after that, there’s just…feelings and fragments and noises. But nothing I can piece together, really. Just you leading me out of the van when it was all over.’ 

Delia nodded, ‘Everything you say you remember sounds right. But you also remember Gillian, don’t you? That part was during the cave.’ 

Patsy felt herself flinch internally. Gillian. Well, Gillian was different. The memory of her terrified face was seared into Patsy’s memory. The image of her screaming in horror rose up in front of her again. Followed by another of the young girl staring, shocked and empty, at her parent’s injured forms. Patsy felt a resurgence of desire, overwhelming and unstoppable, to protect, to shelter, to make sure that she wasn’t left alone again. 

She shook her head, returning to the present. She looked into Delia’s comforting eyes, ‘I remember bits of Gillian from the cave. Snippets of her face. Feelings. But I can’t remember anything that _happened_. Nothing concrete. I hate feeling so…unmoored.’ 

Delia gave a small nod of understanding, ‘Well, let’s see if I can help. Once we left camp, we ran through the trees, following the sound of the helicopter. When we arrived, most of the Reapers were clustered around the entrance to that little cave, and you took off in that direction immediately. I noticed that there was a small group of refugees clustered within some rocks, trying to fend off a few Reapers, so I headed there. I honestly didn’t see much of what you were doing until I’d taken care of the Reapers by the rocks. When I turned, you’d killed almost half of the insects and were keeping the remaining ones away from the entrance. But then the canine Reapers showed up…’ 

‘Yes, I noticed their bodies with Barbara today. I didn’t remember canine Reapers at all.’ 

‘Well, their arrival was an utter disaster. Not only did they come right after you, but they also completely panicked the insects, who scattered to try to hide in the cave. And you couldn’t focus on them because you had two giant canine Reapers bearing down on you. And you saw their bodies…they were _huge_. And, I mean, you took care of one of them pretty quickly with your sword, and I jumped on the back of the other and was able to stab it behind the shoulder blade, but still, so many of the insect Reapers had managed to get into the cave.’ 

Patsy looked down, ‘So I was too slow…’

Delia reached up and put a hand on Patsy’s cheek, ‘Have you been listening to me, Pats? You weren’t too slow. You were miraculously fast, actually. There were just too many of them and they’d been there for too long already and then the canine Reapers came. You did absolutely everything humanly possible to save as many people as you could.’ She lowered her hand, her eyes filled with admiration, ‘I mean, once the canine Reapers were dead, you whirled around and picked up an insect Reaper by its antennae and swung it around like some kind of mace, using it to knock other Reapers away from refugees. It was…well…it was scarily impressive.’ 

Patsy felt a dread seep through her. Her voice was almost inaudibly quiet as the asked the question she’d spent the last three days fearing the answer to, ‘I was scary?’

Delia’s face changed instantly, apologetic and concerned, ‘No, you weren’t. I’m sorry I used that word.’ 

But the dam had been breached, and Patsy couldn’t stop the flow of words as all of her pent-up fears came tumbling rapidly out, ‘Because Barbara said the Reapers had been scared of me and all I can remember is faces filled with just so much _fear_ , and I worry that while that they were scared of the Reapers at first, that later…that later they were scared of _me_.’ 

Delia was up on her knees on the bed in an instant, cradling Patsy’s face in her hands, looking earnestly into her eyes, ‘No, Pats. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. No matter how out-of-control you get, you’re still _you_. You still protect people. You did absolutely nothing out there that you shouldn’t feel proud of.’ She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Patsy’s lips, pulling back so that her deep blue eyes pierced Patsy’s soul with their sincerity, ‘I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it to you every single day if it’s what you need to hear. You’re _not_ a monster, Patsy.’ 

Patsy simply stared at Delia for a long time, trying to find the will to internalize the belief in her crystal blue eyes. She felt tears forming in her own. She wanted _so much_ to believe her, to silence the voice that told her Delia was just trying to make her feel better. Eventually, she decided to allow herself the luxury of believing the potentially fabricated version of reality that gave her solace. At least for now. She gave Delia a small nod and watched a relieved smile grace the brunette’s lips. 

Delia placed a soft kiss on Patsy’s forehead and sat back a bit on her heels. 

Patsy wiped her misty eyes with a sleeve, eyeing Delia a bit shyly, ‘I really picked up a Reaper by the antennae?’

Delia smiled down at her and nodded as she settled back down to sit next to Patsy, ‘Yep. Though that wasn’t nearly as impressive as you almost taking down the helicopter with a crossbow.’ 

‘I shot an arrow at a helicopter?’ 

‘Well, once the Reapers had been taken care of, the chopper got a little low, and I think you were concerned they might shoot at us, so you shot at the pilot with your crossbow. They flew away, so I don’t think you killed them, but it was enough to make them leave.’ 

Patsy couldn’t quite believe she’d done something so…ill advised. What if she actually _had_ taken down the helicopter? It could have fallen directly on top of them. 

‘That really doesn’t seem like the smartest move on my part.’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘Maybe not, but it _was_ better to be safe than sorry. We didn’t know what kind of threat the helicopter posed.’ 

Patsy paused. A part of her longed to stay here, in the lighter version of reality where she was an unproblematic saviour. Where they could blithely discuss what kind of weapons she’d used and tactics she’d employed. But there was still one thing her brain demanded to know. Something deeper. Darker. She could feel her voice wavering with nervousness as she asked, ‘I want to know…no, I _need_ to know…when did Gillian’s parents get bitten? Could I have done more?’ 

Delia sighed deeply and looked at Patsy with concern, ‘According to the other refugees I’ve spoken to, her father was one of the first ones bitten, long before we arrived. And her mother, well, I don’t know _exactly_ what happened. I know she was bitten in the cave after the canine Reapers had arrived, but I don’t know every detail. There was a lot of chaos.’ 

Patsy closed her eyes. Bitten in the cave after the canine Reapers. The image of the insect Reaper latching onto Gillian’s mother’s arm floated in front of her eyes again. But this time, there was more. There was a feeling, building from low in her gut, of panic mixed with pure, seething rage. Of everything else fading into noise as she saw Gillian’s face. Of an undistilled, cold, vicious _anger_ pounding through her veins. Taking control. She felt it tingling in her fingers, causing them to reflexively ball into fists. Her jaw clenched. They had to be _stopped_. It couldn’t be allowed to happen again. She felt herself lean into the fury as she reached out and grabbed the nearest thing she could, holding the long antennae in both hands as she unleashed her wrath upon the rest of the insects. Pitilessly. Mercilessly. Without control. She was gasping for breath. The thrumming of the rotors was deafening. She had to make the noise stop. 

Suddenly, she felt something soft on her face, heard a calm voice from what sounded like far in the distance. 

‘Come back, Pats. I’m here. Come back to me.’ 

Patsy’s eyes snapped open and she saw Delia’s blue eyes, full of concern, hovering a few inches from hers. A warm smile crept across Delia’s face as one hand caressed Patsy’s cheek and the other compulsively brushed at her hair, ‘There you go, sweetheart. Stay right here with me. We’re in camp. In my tent. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe.’ 

Patsy stared, momentarily confused. She could feel her heart pounding. Her breathing was elevated. She glanced around for a moment, taking in the familiar lines of the storage racks and piles of hoses before looking back into Delia’s eyes. They were so beautiful and calming and full of love. Patsy leaned forward suddenly and nestled her head into the soft pocket of Delia’s neck between her shoulder and jaw, wrapping her arms around the brunette. Delia reciprocated immediately, rocking them gently back and forth as she held Patsy tight. 

Delia’s hands stroked Patsy’s hair as she spoke softly, ‘That’s right, Pats. I’m right here. We’re here together.’ 

Patsy stayed there for several long moments, taking comfort in feeling completely surrounded by Delia. Wishing she were someone different. When she spoke, her voice was small and plaintive, ‘Sometimes I get so scared of myself.’ 

Delia placed a gentle kiss on her head, ‘I know, sweetheart. But I’ve never been scared of you. And none of those refugees were scared of you either. You did what you needed to do, Pats. You _saved_ people.’ 

Patsy felt a rush of irritation and hopelessness. Delia didn’t understand, ‘But those things…they weren’t heroic. They came from a place of anger. Of rage. I wasn’t in control.’ 

Delia took a deep breath, ‘You may not have _felt_ like you were in control, but you swung a giant insect around in a contained space and didn’t even graze one person. A part of you knew _exactly_ what you were doing. And even if it was a part that was driven by anger, there was still the overwhelming desire to protect people. You didn’t let yourself hurt anyone.’ 

That wasn’t exactly true. She had still hurt someone. Perhaps badly, ‘I shot a person with a crossbow.’ 

‘You shot at a pilot who had dropped a load of insect Reapers on innocent civilians. And you didn’t kill them. They were still able to pilot a helicopter away. Given your capabilities, I have to think that was purposeful on your part. You can forgive yourself. That part of you didn’t do anything wrong.’ 

Patsy stayed nestled into Delia. Feeling her warmth. Wondering if what she was saying was possible. That this terrifying, dark side of her wasn’t so terrible after all. That this part of her that had ripped a man to shreds could have changed. Grown. Become a protector. It just seemed so…unlikely. She knew what she had done before. What she was capable of. She felt her voice crack, ‘I don’t _like_ that part of myself. I don’t want to _be_ that anymore.’ 

Delia squeezed her tighter, ‘I understand that. And we can work on it…together. I can help you learn how to keep control. But you have to trust that part of you doesn’t want to hurt anyone. It’s not monstrous, Pats. It’s just trying to protect you. And those who need help.’

Patsy remembered Barbara’s warning about working with Delia, and felt her anxiety spike. That familiar need to protect came surging back, ‘Barbara said she could work with me. To help learn how to control it…to be able to remember when I fight.’ 

‘She did?’ Delia tried, but failed to hide the surprise from her voice. After a moment’s pause, she continued, ‘Well, I think that’s a wonderful idea. Barbara would be really good for you to work with. She’s much closer to your level and really incredibly patient. And I’ll be there to provide any emotional support you may need.’

Patsy felt her anxiety begin to ebb away. Delia understood. Delia wasn’t going to be hurt by Patsy working with Barbara. Patsy took a deep, calming breath, grasping Delia just a little bit tighter, feeling more grateful than she ever had in her life. She was going to work to gain control. That part of herself was never going to take her over again. She was going to be able to protect people without scaring them. She felt herself flinch at this last thought. She took a deep, shaky breath, ‘It’s just so hard for me to imagine that I wasn’t scary to the refugees. To have someone so… _angry_ , so out of control.’ 

‘I really don’t think you have to worry about that. At this point I’ve heard several retellings of your grand rescue, and none of them have ever mentioned you being scary. And every other aspect has been relayed in the greatest of detail.’ 

At that, Patsy released her grip on Delia and sat back, looking with confusion into the brunette’s eyes, ‘Retellings?’ 

Delia nodded blithely, ‘Oh yes, there have been quite a few rather _creative_ recounting amongst the refugees over on the temporary housing side of camp.’ 

Patsy was shocked, ‘The refugees have been talking about me?’ 

‘The ones that were there haven’t been talking about much else, apparently,’ Delia’s tone became playful, ‘Though my jumping-on-the-back-of-the-Reaper move had also been popular, so you’re not getting _all_ of the glory.’ 

Patsy felt herself flinch slightly at the use of that word, ‘I assure you I don’t want _any_ of it.’ 

Delia smiled at her, a mischievous glint in her eye, ‘Then I suppose you should have been less awe-inspiring.’ 

Patsy gave a shy smile in return, enjoying feeling a bit more relaxed, ‘Well, at least my Reaper-swinging and helicopter shooting didn’t get me cut. I take it your apparently impressive take-down of a canine Reaper was how you hurt your arm.’ 

Delia shook her head, ‘Sadly, my cut came from something much more foolish. And much later. But that’s perhaps a story for another time, unless you’re done talking about the attack for now.’ 

Patsy considered this. There was still so much more she wanted to know. She felt an urge to ask Delia every detail. To make her come with her to the cave and walk her through every step she had taken. Every swipe of her blade. Every Reaper she had killed. But she knew there was no way she was going to get all that she needed in one conversation. And there were probably things even Delia wasn’t going to able to clear up. No, she’d had enough for now. 

‘I think I’m ready to take a break. And given what Barbara said when she refused to disclose the details, I sense it might be a rather amusing story.’ 

Delia smirked, ‘Barbara _is_ always trying to embarrass me. It’s not really amusing. More just foolish. It happened yesterday, while you were cleaning the food storage tent. Barbara, Winifred, and I had been tasked with –’ 

Delia was cut-off mid-sentence by the arrival of a rather irritated looking Winifred, who entered the tent muttering in their general direction, eyes on her bed, ‘I swear Delia, I think that Barbara just _created_ that problem with the communications equipment. It looked like the wires had been purposely disconnected and then put –’ she turned and stopped short, ‘Oh. Patsy. You’re here. With Delia.’

Patsy smiled over at her, ‘Hello Winifred. Yes, we were just having a little debrief.’ 

‘Oh. Yes. Well…that makes sense.’ Winifred looked profoundly awkward, her eyes flitting towards the exit for a moment before she suddenly took a deep breath and took a step towards them, ‘I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I’m glad that you’re talking…to each other, I mean. And I really do hope that you’re doing alright, Patsy. I’ve been worried about you, after how you were when you came back. And then today in the dining tent…well, it just didn’t seem like you.’ 

Patsy’s eyebrows raised in surprise and she smiled up at the small spy, who was looking at her nervously, ‘I’m doing much better now, Winifred. Thank you. How are you doing?’ 

Winifred’s face broke out into a relieved smile before taking on a pensive look, ‘I’m doing well, all things considered. A bit rattled, and a bit worried about what this means, you know, big-scale, but I think it was good for me to work in the medical tent during it. To see what that involved. I’ve never been part of anything quite like that before.’ 

Patsy looked at her warmly, ‘Neither have I.’ 

A mildly awkward silence fell over the tent. 

Finally, Winifred took a dramatically deep breath and gestured towards the entrance, ‘Well, I’m going to go…get ready for bed. I’ll be back in a bit.’ 

Delia piped up, ‘Actually, Winifred, I think I’m going to stay over in Patsy’s tent tonight, if that’s alright with her.’ 

Patsy felt a warmth spread through her as she beamed back at Delia and nodded. 

‘Oh…yes…well…that makes sense.’ Winifred shuffled towards the exit again, ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow then.’ She darted out in the direction of the loo. 

Delia stood and reached out her hand to Patsy, ‘Shall we go and get some rest?’ 

Patsy nodded and took Delia’s hand, feeling grounded in a way she hadn’t in years.

Delia pulled her to her feet and, unexpectedly, wrapped an arm around Patsy’s waist, holding her close. She reached up and ran her other hand along Patsy’s jaw, her blue eyes searching the redhead’s face for a moment before she gave a satisfied sigh. Her voice, when it came, was soft and calm, ‘I’m so proud of you, Pats. For opening up. For trusting me. Thank you.’ 

Delia lightly drew Patsy towards her and when their lips met, Patsy felt a sense of contentment cascade through her. Of rightness. The kiss felt like a promise that, while things were hard, ultimately, everything was going to be alright. She had Delia. She was safe. 

Delia pulled away and looked up at her adoringly for a moment before releasing her and taking her hand, ‘Come on. You need some sleep.’ 

Patsy could only nod, feeling overwhelmed by how lucky she felt. By how much she owed Delia. 

As they walked towards her tent, she glanced down at Delia walking next to her and felt a bit of shame nudge through her happiness. She cleared her throat, ‘So…even Winifred thought I was a jerk in the meeting. I must have truly behaved atrociously.’ 

Delia gave her hand a little squeeze, mirth in her voice, ‘It wasn’t your finest moment, but luckily for you, you give a fairly convincing apology. 

Patsy smiled before stopping them and turning Delia to face her, ‘But really, Deels. That’s something you should know about me. I can be a little…prickly. Especially when I get defensive. I’ve been working on it, but I’m obviously not perfect.’ 

Delia smirked up at her and swung their joined hands playfully, ‘Prickly Pats, huh? I think I can handle that.’ She started walking backwards towards Patsy’s tent, pulling Patsy along with her, ‘Come on then, if you want to be less _prickly_ tomorrow, I think a good night’s sleep is in order.’ 

Patsy smiled as she willingly followed Delia. She felt her worries wane with each step she took, a calm contentment flowing through her. She had a community that truly cared for her. That was looking out for her. She had Julienne and Trixie and Barbara and even Winifred. 

And she didn’t know when the right moment would come, but she knew that when it did, for the first time, she would have someone to help carry the weight of her heaviest burden. She wasn’t going to have to face those fears alone ever again because now she had found someone who wanted to be there for her, who _wanted_ to share her struggles. She had found Delia, and no matter what happened, she was never going to let go.


	20. Delia Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took an unexpectedly long time to get out onto the page. It's the longest so far, and I hope that you enjoy! Thanks, as always, for your patience. :)

Delia felt a bead of sweat drip down her back as she reached up to grab a sprinkler set-up from the top shelf.

She had shown up for an afternoon of re-fitting sprinklers with Barbara, only to find that her colleague was nowhere to be found. And while she had buckled down and begun the work herself, she did wonder where Barbara had gotten to. It wasn’t like her to be late. 

Standing on her very tiptoes, she got hold of the base of a sprinkler, only to have it slip out of her sweaty hands and clatter onto the ground. She cursed under her breath as she bent to pick it up. Camp Poplar had been in the midst of a heat wave ever since the attack, and the last two days had been particularly brutal. As it had gotten hotter and hotter, Delia had begun to chafe at having to wear the bloody long-sleeve camp uniform all the time. She had begged Phyllis to make an exception, given that the temperatures were hovering in the high thirties, but her superior had declared that discomfort was no excuse for abandoning professionalism. Delia was fairly sure, however, that it wasn’t particularly professional to be so sweaty that she couldn’t even do her job properly. 

Grumbling, she carried the sprinkler to the makeshift worktable she’d set up next to her bed and sat to begin re-fitting it to the mount. She wondered what would happen if she simply started wearing a t-shirt instead of this monstrosity. It was tempting, but ultimately, she didn’t dare risk crossing Phyllis. Their relationship was already a bit strained. In fact, it almost seemed like Phyllis was actively avoiding her, which left Delia a bit baffled. 

She wondered if Phyllis was repaying her decision not to reveal Patsy’s history by freezing her out. But that just seemed _so_ unlike Phyllis. They were still a team, and Delia had been honest that she knew something, even if she’d refused to reveal the specifics. 

Something was definitely amiss, though. Phyllis had been surprisingly dismissive when Delia had brought up her concerns about Mary Cynthia, Jenny, and Alec. The insect Reapers had almost certainly come from the compound, and there was simply no way that that kind of attack could have been launched without the embedded team knowing about it. So why hadn’t they alerted HQ? The only possible explanation was that the trio had been compromised, which meant that they were in incredible danger. Phyllis had assured her that Mary Cynthia had checked in with HQ to say that all was well the day after the attack, but Delia remained dubious. Nothing about that made sense. But when Delia asked why they hadn’t been extracted, Phyllis had brushed her off, simply responding that it was ‘being looked into.’ Phyllis had never before disregarded her concerns so brazenly. 

She’d brought it up with Barbara, who’d suggested that it might have more to do with how Phyllis was processing the attack than anything to do with Delia. Delia wondered how likely that was. The old spy seemed almost entirely unaffected by the attack, which Delia had expected, considering this was far from Phyllis’ first battle. But perhaps she wasn’t really as unfazed as she appeared. 

After all, Delia was doing her best to hide just how much the attack had shaken her. She had been in her fair share of fights in her young life, but this one had been different. And it wasn’t just the callous viciousness of the Redemptionists. It was that Delia herself was different.

She had always approached fighting, all of her missions, in fact, with a kind of fatalistic abandon. She knew she could handle herself, but if somehow she got overwhelmed and was badly hurt or killed? Well, at least she would have gone down fighting for a just cause. 

But when she’d been out at the cave, something had changed. She hadn’t told Patsy, but when she’d jumped on the back of the canine Reaper she’d misjudged her leap and come terrifyingly close to being bitten in the neck. And while she’d had close scrapes before, in that moment, as she’d faced the inevitability of her own demise, she’d realized with a crystal clarity that she didn’t want to die. She’d never had that feeling before. Ever. She’d always felt ready. Like dying for the cause was the natural culmination of the journey she’d started when she snuck out of her house at fourteen. 

But now…now there was a new path opening up before her. A path that ended with a future other than early death or life spent going from one dangerous mission to the next. A path with Patsy. And that was exciting and terrifying in equal measure. In the past eight years, she’d never really seriously considered not being a spy. It was who she was. How she made a difference. But what if she could find another way to make a difference? A way that would allow her to be with Patsy? 

She shook her head. She couldn’t really imagine leaving Phyllis and Barbara and Winifred and the team. They were her family. She quarrelled with them, but ultimately they had been her entire support system for the better part of a decade. Even the thought of existing in the world without them made her feel…untethered. 

The makeshift fan that she and Winifred had made and mounted onto one of the tent poles suddenly started clacking ominously. Delia stood and inspected it for a moment before turning it off and adjusting one of the blades. She nodded in satisfaction when it resumed its silent whirring. The anaemic breeze it created was the only thing keeping their tent from being unbearably suffocating. 

Returning to her seat, she smiled to herself as she thought about how she and Winifred had worked together to steal tins from the metal recycling to make the fan blades. That, at least, was one silver lining from the horror of the attack. Winifred was talking to her again. Neither of them had been brave enough to broach the topic of her relationship with Patsy, but at least Winifred wasn’t avoiding her. 

In fact, her colleague had been almost overwhelmingly cheery of late, and Delia was impressed by her capacity to take the attack in stride. Though it’s not as if it was particularly unexpected. Winifred was a bit flighty, but she had a tenacity borne of naivety and hope. In fact, most everyone in the camp was responding to the aftermath of the attack in much the way she would have expected. The exceptions were Evangelina and Barbara.

Delia was, quite honestly, a bit shocked by Evangelina’s profoundly restrained response. In her experience, the curmudgeonly nurse didn’t let an opportunity to bluster pass her by. But she had been almost silent at the meeting, expressing not even a hint of consternation at HQ’s decision not to retaliate. It was highly suspicious, and Delia was almost certain that Evangelina was up to something. She had approached Phyllis about it, but had been told rather bluntly that she was letting her imagination run wild. If Evangelina was up to something, Phyllis would know, and her superior assured her that nothing untoward was happening. Delia was sceptical, but figured it made sense to trust Phyllis’ instincts. After all, they’d never been wrong before. 

Barbara was another matter entirely. Ever since the attack, Barbara had been more…withdrawn, often working with her brow furrowed, an undercurrent of nervous preoccupation surrounding her. Delia had tried talking to her about it, but Barbara assured her everything was fine–she was just a bit tired. Delia didn’t believe her for a moment, but wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it. She was already expending a tremendous amount of emotional energy caring for Patsy, and she simply didn’t have the capacity to try to wheedle information out of Barbara as well. 

And that didn’t even take into account Barbara’s rather baffling offer to train with Patsy. Not that it wasn’t a good idea. It was a marvellous idea, in fact, and their two sessions so far had gone incredibly well. The truly perplexing thing was that Barbara hadn’t checked in with anyone about it before broaching the subject with Patsy. While she was undoubtedly a thoroughly competent spy, Barbara wasn’t really one to make major decisions without asking permission, and her choice to suddenly defy eight years of precedent was bewildering. No, something was definitely going on with Barbara. 

As if summoned by Delia’s thoughts, Barbara strode into the tent, looking apologetic. Delia looked up and smiled, ‘It’s nice to see that I’m not the only one that can be delinquent.’ 

Barbara looked a bit awkward, ‘Yes, well, I assure you there’s a good reason. And anyways, we won’t be working together today, I’m afraid. You’re urgently needed at the front gate.’ 

Delia furrowed her brow, ‘Urgently needed? By whom? Why?’ 

‘The whom is Patsy, and I’m not sure why, though she did say that you should put shorts and a sports bra on under your uniform.’ 

‘It’s urgent but she wants me to put shorts on under my uniform?’

‘That’s accurate, yes.’ 

Delia was a bit nonplussed, ‘Just so you know, this is all remarkably unsubtle.’ 

‘I was told to prioritise efficiency, not subtlety,’ Barbara replied matter-of-factly, ‘And with that in mind, you really should get changed and get going.’ 

Delia got up and rummaged through her clothes to find her shorts, ‘And what’s Phyllis going to say about my taking an afternoon off?’ 

Barbara shrugged, ‘We have plenty prepared for group work on the incendiary system tomorrow, and she’s currently busy in the medical tent. I’m not sure she’ll even notice.’ 

Delia took off her uniform bottoms and slid on the shorts, ‘As long as you’re certain it won’t anger her. I feel like I’m on thin ice with her as it is.’

‘It’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. Now off you go, Patsy’s waiting.’ 

Delia pulled her trousers back on and allowed herself to be gently pushed out of the tent. Her curiosity grew with every step she took. What on earth did Patsy have planned? She desperately hoped whatever is was would provide the opportunity to take off her uniform. Even the brief respite of wearing shorts for a moment had been heavenly.

Approaching the gate, she saw Patsy leaning casually against the fence, and the sight took her breath away for a moment. The redhead looked utterly resplendent. Delia simply couldn’t understand how she appeared completely unfazed by the heat. While Delia felt like a walking ball of perspiration, Patsy just seemed to glow. It might actually have been a bit annoying if it didn’t make her look so absolutely gorgeous. Comparatively, Delia felt like some kind of sodden fish.

She self-consciously brushed the sweaty fringe out of her face as she called out to Patsy, ‘I’ve been told that my presence is _urgently_ required.’

Patsy smiled, ‘Barbara may have been overselling it a bit, but I must say I _am_ excited to see you in your bra and shorts ensemble. I imagine you look quite…fetching.’ 

‘Not as fetching as you. How on _earth_ are you not overheating in your uniform?’ 

Patsy shrugged, ‘I suppose I just focus on how it’s nice to not feel cold for once.’ 

Delia shook her head in amazement, ‘At least tell me you didn’t sleep in your long pyjama bottoms last night.’ 

Patsy shot her a lopsided smirk, ‘I did, in fact, though I switched to a short-sleeved top.’ She reached out and cupped Delia’s jaw in her hand, drawing her in for a leisurely kiss. When she eventually pulled back, the smirk remained, and her voice was low and flirtatious, ‘Which you would know if you’d stayed with me last night. I missed you.’ 

Delia had spent the previous four nights since Patsy’s apology contentedly snuggling with her, sure that nothing could ever make her give up the blissful feeling of waking up pressed against the redhead’s side. But then last night temperatures had been in the mid-thirties well into the evening, and the heat had been enough to drive Delia back to her own bed. 

‘I missed you too, but you’re simply too hot for your own good, Ms Mount. If I had spent the night next to you, I might have literally boiled.’

Patsy flushed slightly and laughed, ‘And _that_ is the inspiration for today’s little surprise. I don’t plan on sleeping alone in the future, so we’ve got to get that body temperature of yours down a bit.’ She picked up a backpack and satchel that lay on the ground and pulled open the gate, ‘After you.’ 

Delia raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side curiously as she slipped out. 

Once they were outside, Patsy reached down into the satchel, pulled out a mobile beacon and switched it on. Once she had slid it back into the outside pocket, she held out her hand to Delia, ‘Shall we?’ 

Delia happily took it and followed Patsy as they circled around the camp, wending their way across a small field on the far side, and then beginning a climb up a rather impressive hillside. As they walked, Delia snuck a glance up at Patsy’s face, pleased to see the redhead looking so serene. 

The past five days had been intense ones for Patsy, but she was holding up extraordinarily well. In addition to her normal workload, she’d had two training sessions with Barbara, daily conversations about her actions during the attack with Delia and, at Delia’s insistence, a counselling session with Julienne. Delia had expected all of that work to leave Patsy emotionally exhausted, but instead it seemed to have rejuvenated her. She had a hopeful skip in her step that Delia had never seen before. It made her so incredibly happy to see Patsy like this. 

Patsy looked down and gave her a contented smile, ‘I really do hope you like this surprise, Deels.’ Her eyes wandered down to Delia’s left arm, ‘How is your cut feeling? I imagine the heat must be bothering it.’ 

‘The heat does make it extremely itchy under the bandage. But it’s healing well. And I must say that Chummy’s sutures are incredibly precise. It’s astounding how coordinated she is with her medical work when in other aspects of life she’s…well…a bit clumsy.’ 

Patsy chuckled, ‘It is one of life’s great mysteries. Speaking of, are you ever going to tell me how you got that little souvenir? Every time I ask you conveniently change the subject.’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘It’s really not that exciting. The day after the attack, Barbara, Winifred and I were tasked with cleaning up the dead Reapers so that they wouldn’t smell up the camp—’ 

‘The three of you cleaned them up?’ 

Delia elbowed her in the side playfully, ‘Really, Pats, did you think they just magically disappeared? You’re the chief _logistics_ officer, for heaven’s sake.’ 

‘I suppose I’d just never really thought about it.’ 

Delia feigned consternation, ‘Yes, well, it’s nice to know all of our hard, smelly, gross work was so appreciated.’

Patsy shot her a small half-smile, ‘I apologize for not recognizing your great sacrifice earlier. Thank you for saving all of us from the scourge of rotting Reaper bits.’ 

Delia gave a satisfied nod and shot Patsy a sly smile, ‘It does feel nice to finally have the recognition we so obviously deserve for being the heroes that we are.’ 

Patsy raised an eyebrow, looking amused, but stayed silent as she tossed her satchel to the other side of the crumbling stone wall their journey had brought them to. She put one hand on the top and vaulted fairly easily over. Once on the other side, she turned, offering a hand to help Delia over. Delia eyed the offer of assistance with scepticism. The wall was fairly tall, and they were approaching it from the downhill side, but still, she had her pride.

She huffed as she scrambled onto the top of the wall unassisted, ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting over on my own, Patsy.’ 

Patsy kept her arm extended, her voice once again getting a distinctly flirtatious edge, ‘I’m sure you are, but where’s the fun in that?’ 

Delia shot her a somewhat suspicious smile and reached out to take Patsy’s hand. The redhead responded by wrapping her other arm around Delia’s thighs and lifting her off of the wall. 

Delia let out a surprised squawk, ‘Patsy! What are doing?’ 

‘Sweeping you off your feet.’ 

Delia smiled and wiggled down slightly so that Patsy’s arm was around her waist, her legs wrapped around the redhead, ‘You know, nowadays that saying is really more metaphorical. I hope that you have more planned than simply literally picking me up.’ 

Patsy smirked, ‘You’ll just have to wait and see. Though maybe this can be a start.’ 

She moved one of her arms up behind Delia’s head and brought their lips together. For a moment, Delia forgot all about the heat, simply revelling in having Patsy, _this_ Patsy, back. She adored all versions of the redhead, but this one, confident and relaxed and flirtatious, was definitely the most fun. 

She pulled back and beamed down at Patsy, ‘I take it all back. This is plenty. We can just stay right here.’ 

‘Absolutely not!’ Patsy shot her a mischievous grin and began to loosen her hold, ‘Trust me, you’re not going to want to miss this.’ 

Delia clenched her thighs, gripping Patsy more tightly, ‘But I’m not done here yet.’

Patsy raised an eyebrow, ‘You make a compelling argument.’ She allowed Delia to bring her in for another unhurried kiss before finally breaking away, ‘But really, Deels, I want to get to the actual surprise.’ 

Delia begrudgingly released her legs, allowing Patsy to lower her to the ground. 

Patsy hoisted the satchel back on her shoulder and grabbed Delia’s hand. As they continued their journey up the hillside, Delia noticed that they appeared to be approaching a small stand of trees at the top of the ridge. She wondered what was up there. She hoped that whatever it was proved to be worth this trek. The hill was steep and they were entirely unprotected from the sun. Delia bit back her complaints, even though she felt like she was going to roast to death any moment. 

‘So, you were cleaning up the Reapers?’ Patsy’s question pulled her from her internal whingeing. 

‘What? Oh yes, the cut. Well, we were chopping their back legs off before carting them out, because they were a bit gangly and we didn’t want to get cut by those vicious leg spikes. And at one point I picked up one of the legs and commented that it would make a pretty spectacular weapon in and of itself, and I kind of…spun it around a bit, you know, to demonstrate. But then the lower part of the leg flew off and headed straight for Winifred, so I reached out to deflect it and it sliced my forearm.’ 

‘Well I suppose that proved your point, and I’m sure that Winifred was grateful for your quick reflexes.’ 

They walked in silence for a moment before Patsy gave Delia’s hand a small squeeze, her voice quieter, ‘I’m glad the ooze didn’t affect you. Given the outcome for the others, that would have been…’ she trailed off. 

Delia sighed internally. This is why she’d been wary to tell Patsy about her cut. She felt like such a fool for putting herself in danger so unnecessarily, and she knew the story would make Patsy worry. Delia pulled them to a stop and looked up at Patsy, whose eyes were glistening slightly. She cupped Patsy’s jaw, ‘I know, Pats. I’m very lucky. For _many_ reasons. But don’t worry, I’ll be more careful in the future, alright?’ 

Patsy simply stared at her for a moment before giving a brief nod and taking a deep breath. She took Delia’s hand from her cheek and glanced up the hill, sound falsely cheery, ‘Come on then, your surprise awaits.’ 

Delia decided to allow the re-direction, ‘And who’s guilty of giving her surprise quite the build-up now?’ 

Patsy simply chuckled and pulled Delia up the hill. They entered the cluster of trees, which Delia realized was significantly larger than she’d thought, and began winding their way through the forest. It was already noticeably cooler here, though still by no means comfortable, and Delia kept her eyes peeled for whatever the surprise might be. 

Suddenly, they emerged through some thick brush into a clearing and Delia gasped at the idyllic scene before her. On the far side, a small stream meandered its way out of the trees before flowing into a luxurious-looking pond of crystal clear water about the size of the dining tent. Delia simply stood, gaping for a moment before turning to Patsy. 

‘Pats, this is absolutely _amazing_. What _is_ this place?’ 

‘It’s a reservoir the camp constructed back when it first opened. There’s a spring up the hill and this used to be a natural meadow. They dug it out and built a little dam to provide water to the camp,’ she pointed over to their right, ‘See over there, that straight, raised bit? There’s a pipe that runs from the middle of the dam down to camp, though it’s buried so the Redemptionists don’t know it’s where we get our water. And that’s why the edges are a bit undulating, so that it looks natural from the air.’

‘The camp has a reservoir?’ Delia couldn’t quite believe that she’d never considered where the water for the incendiary project and showers was actually coming from. 

Patsy’s voice was playfully mocking, ‘Really, Deels, did you think water just magically appeared? You’re designing a giant glorified fire-sprinkler system, for heaven’s sake.’

Delia smirked back, ‘I suppose I’d just never really thought about it.’ She looked a bit forlornly at the water, ‘It really is lovely, Pats. Too bad the camp uses it as a water source so we can’t swim in it.’ 

Patsy made a kind of disbelieving snorting noise, ‘We don’t _drink_ this water, except in emergencies, and even then we have the small sterilization tank we use for water for the medical tent. This is just for showers and laundry and the like. This place may be beautiful, but I wouldn’t have made us trudge up that hill if you couldn’t swim in it. How else are you going to cool off?’ 

‘Really?’ Delia could barely contain her excitement. The instant she saw Patsy’s nod she reached down and began pulling off her boots. She needed to get out of this oppressive uniform and into that water _now_. She ripped off her shoes and socks and whipped off her pants. She was in the middle of unbuttoning her shirt when Patsy’s amused voice broke through her concentration. 

‘As much as I’m enjoying seeing you so singularly focused on disrobing, we need to waterproof that cut of yours before you get in. This pool probably harbours all sorts of unsavoury bacteria and we don’t want it getting infected.’ 

Delia looked up a bit impatiently to see that Patsy had put down her bags and produced a medical bag from the satchel. 

‘Can’t I just wash it out later? I want to get in the water!’ 

‘No. We’re covering it now.’ She approached and waited patiently for Delia to finish taking off her shirt. Delia sighed and begrudgingly held out her arm, staring mournfully at the water, which was so close yet felt so far. She bounced in place restlessly as Patsy efficiently wrapped her forearm in plastic wrap, which she secured on with waterproof medical tape. The second she was done, Delia gave Patsy a quick peck on the cheek before sprinting to the edge of the pool and launching herself into the water. 

A heavenly sense of freedom and relief flowed through her as the cool water hit her skin. She stayed completely submerged for as long as she could, feeling her internal temperature slowly lower. Coming up for a breath, she looked around for Patsy and was surprised to notice that the redhead was simply sitting on the dam, looking at her indulgently. 

‘You’re not getting into the water?’ Delia couldn’t mask her dismay. 

Patsy shook her head, ‘I’m like a cat. I don’t mind being near water, but I don’t really like being _submerged_ in it, per say. I’ll happily dip my feet in, but it’s really not hot enough to justify getting all the way in.’ 

Delia looked at her in horror, ‘Not hot enough? Patsy, it feels like it’s forty degrees!’ 

Patsy shrugged and began untying the laces of her boots, ‘Not to me.’ 

Delia shook her head in disbelief, ‘Well that is very much your loss. The water is absolutely perfect.’ And with that she submerged herself again, revelling in the splendour of the cool water encompassing her completely. Eventually, she popped back up, noting that Patsy had removed her shoes and was dangling her feet in the water. 

‘Just so you know, I’m adding your imperviousness to heat to the ever-growing list of mysteries about you.’ 

‘There’s a _list_ of mysteries about me?’ Patsy sounded amused. 

‘Oh yes. You’re quite the enigma. For example, the gin. You told me you got it from Fred, but Trixie led me to believe that it came from more _nefarious_ sources.’ 

‘Oh no no no. I didn’t tell you it came from Fred. You _assumed_ it came from Fred and then asked what we traded. I was simply answering your question. You didn’t actually _ask_ where the gin came from.’ 

‘So you _do_ have scandalous contacts!’ 

‘I don’t know if I’d call them _scandalous_. But yes, I have a few people who I can get in touch with to procure items that can be a bit… _trickier_ to obtain.’ 

‘See? Mysterious.’ 

Patsy laughed, ‘It’s not really a mystery. My first several years in the Bloc I was a sort of persona non grata. Kicked out of housing. Living under the radar. You meet all sorts of interesting people when you’re in that situation. And I’ve kept in touch with a few of them.’ 

‘And are any of them in the Underground?’ Delia tried to sound casual, though she’d wanted to ask this question for a while. Patsy had reacted quite strongly when Delia had mentioned the Underground when describing her past with the Bissettes, and Delia wondered whether Patsy was involved with them in some way. 

Patsy cocked her head to the side, looking pensive, ‘You know, I’ve thought a bit about that over the last couple of weeks. I’d always assumed they were independent operators…a bit like more intense versions of Fred, but I suppose they could be members of the Underground. It’s not as if that’s something they would mention.’ 

As she spoke, Patsy removed her feet from the water and dried them off absentmindedly with a small towel.

‘You’re done putting your feet in the water _already_?’ 

Patsy simply nodded and stood, reaching her arms up in a slow, indolent stretch. Delia felt her breath catch in her throat. Patsy was so phenomenally gorgeous. The mere _thought_ of Patsy in a swimsuit was almost overwhelming, and Delia _really_ wanted the redhead to get in the water with her. Exasperatingly, it looked like that outcome was highly unlikely, as Patsy wandered back towards her pack and started rooting through it. 

Delia sighed, feeling a surge of frustrated energy course through her. While the water itself was heavenly, she had hoped that this adventure, with just the two of them alone, far away from camp, might provide the opportunity for some more… _salacious_ activities. But Patsy wouldn’t even take off her long sleeve top. It appeared that Delia would have to repress those particular desires for today. 

Hoping to work out the ball of frustrated energy that had settled in her gut, she took off swimming around the pool. It was so incredibly _freeing_ , to not feel slowed to the pace of a slug by the heat. After several laps her ardour had cooled some, and she floated lazily in the water for several long minutes, trying to luxuriate in not feeling trapped in oppressive heat. After a while, though, she realized that this was nowhere near as fun as it could be. She might not be getting the frisky Pats she desired, but she still wanted Patsy to be in the water with her. She wondered how far she’d dare to push in order to make that happen.

Glancing around in search of the object of her interest, she noticed that Patsy had lain down in a small patch of shade beside the pool, still in her full uniform. She had her eyes closed and appeared to be entirely relaxed. Delia squinted and felt a small surge of victory as she saw a line of sweat make its way down the redhead’s neck. Not that hot? Hah! As Delia suspected, Patsy was hotter than she was willing to admit. 

Swimming silently up to where Patsy lay, Delia tread water for a moment, carefully considering her next move. She reached up and flicked a small amount of water onto Patsy. 

‘Delia…’ Patsy’s tone was half playful, half warning. 

Delia affected complete innocence, ‘What? You’re sweating. You obviously need to cool down. I’m just helping.’ 

‘I’m not that hot.’ 

‘I can _see_ you sweating, Pats.’ 

Patsy turned and opened one eye, looking over Delia suspiciously before returning to her relaxed position, ‘Fine. I’m a bit warm.’ 

‘Then come and get in the water with me!’ Delia knew she sounded a bit petulant, but she didn’t care, ‘Come on. It’ll be fun.’ 

‘I don’t know, Deels. Then I have to get out again, and I’ll be all wet and it just sounds like so much _work_.’ 

‘It’s so hot, you’ll dry off almost instantly.’ 

Patsy sighed, ‘Maybe later. Right now I’m not hot enough.’

‘Now you’re just being stubborn.’ 

Patsy shrugged, ‘Maybe.’ 

Delia narrowed her eyes and stared hard at the redhead for several long moments before deciding to throw caution to the wind and launching a wall of water onto Patsy’s supine form. 

Patsy released an indignant shriek, jumping up, water dripping off of her face. She glared at Delia, but, the brunette noted, her voice had mirth in it, ‘Delia Busby, you are in for it now!’ 

Much to Delia’s delight, Patsy rapidly began unbuttoning her uniform top. The brunette feigned disinterest and gave a small shrug, ‘You were too hot and weren’t going to do anything about it yourself. I was just providing you with the relief you didn’t know you needed.’

Patsy narrowed her eyes as she bent over to remove her trousers, revealing oddly long shorts, ‘Regardless of how hot I may or may not have been, it doesn’t justify you inundating me with water.’

‘Now you’re just being dramatic. It was only a small splash.’ 

‘Oh no you don’t, Ms Busby. I will not allow you to re-write history. That was a blatant attack, and it will not go unpunished.’ 

Delia raised an eyebrow challengingly, ‘I’d like to see you try. I’m like a dolphin in the water.’ 

Patsy, now clad only in her sports bra and shorts, actually smirked, ‘Is that right? Well, we’ll see about that!’ And with that she launched herself off of the dam. 

Delia couldn’t hold back a squeal of glee as Patsy hit the surface, spraying water everywhere. Her plan had worked perfectly, and she couldn’t have felt prouder. However, as Patsy came to the surface, a determined set to her jaw and a predatory gleam in her eye, Delia realized that she might not have fully thought this plan through. 

She backed away quickly as Patsy approached, her previous bravado fading a bit, ‘Now Pats, it was just a bit of a splash. And doesn’t it feel nice to be in the water?’ 

Patsy simply smiled, ‘Oh no, Deels. You’re the one who started this, and you’re not talking your way out of it.’

Delia soon found herself backed against the dam. In a few moments she would be pinned in and at Patsy’s mercy. Considering her options, she decided to go on the offensive. Just as Patsy was about to reach her, she took a deep breath and plunged under the water, propelling herself off the dam wall and shooting past the redhead. The moment she was past Patsy, she flipped around, shot out of the water and latched onto her back with a victorious, ‘Aha!’ 

Delia had just enough time to hear Patsy chuckle before she found herself back underwater, the redhead no longer in her grasp. She hung alone in the water for just an instant before strong arms wrapped around her. She felt her body rapidly accelerate followed by the odd sensation of flying through the warm air for a brief moment before hitting the water with a resounding ‘ _thwack_!’ 

She popped up, gasping for air, trying to get her bearings. She heard Patsy chuckling behind her, and whirled around, a bit astonished, ‘Did you just _throw_ me?’ 

Patsy smirked, ‘I was simply meting out justice. You threw water _on_ me, so I threw you _out_ of it.’ 

Delia raised an eyebrow, a small smile on the edge of her lips, ‘And do you feel better, now that you’ve exacted your revenge?’ 

Patsy cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, ‘A little. Though being tossed in the air once hardly seems like adequate recompense for your unprovoked attack.’

Delia approached her, smiling softly, and draping her arms over Patsy’s shoulders, ‘So what, your plan now is to just spend your entire time in the water seeking retribution?’ 

‘I think that summarizes the situation quite nicely, yes. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of holding a grudge for the entire afternoon.’ 

Delia laughed and gave Patsy a peck on the nose, ‘I’m sure you are, but where’s the fun in that?’ 

Patsy stared challengingly at her for a moment before sighing and wrapping her arms around Delia’s back, swinging her back and forth lightly, her tone playful, ‘You make an excellent point. Though if I’m going to be magnanimous enough to forgive you, you’re obligated to engage in any activity I choose.’ 

Delia’s heart leapt into her throat. She tried not to sound too hopeful, ‘And what did you have in mind?’ 

Patsy shot her a nervous look, ‘I want…’ she paused for a moment, seemingly unsure if Delia would approve, ‘I want to see how far I can throw you…if we’re both working together. And maybe we can see if you can manage a flip in the air?’ 

Delia shook her head and chuckled, ‘That sounds like a lot of fun.’ 

They set about trying to see how far they could propel Delia, a task that Patsy approached with a mix of intense concentration and unrestrained joy, nodding in satisfaction every time Delia flew just a bit further and demanding that they try again.

They briefly tried switching roles, but their height difference rendered that venture almost impossible. Their best effort saw Patsy barely making it a centimetre before fwumping unceremoniously into the water, an outcome that left them both giggling uncontrollably. They decided it was probably best to abandon that particular challenge, and they switched back. 

Once they’d figured out how to get adequate distance, Delia began trying to work in flips and spins. She was trying to look impressive, but usually ended up splatting gracelessly into the water. Each time, regardless of the outcome, they would analyse their tactics, Patsy’s eyes twinkling adorably with excitement, and they would try again. Finally, Patsy found a place on the edge that allowed her a particularly solid foothold and, with the extra height on the throw, Delia managed to execute a perfect flip before landing in the centre of the pond with perfect diving form. 

Delia popped up to the surface with a shout of glee, ‘Did you see that? I did it!’ 

A beaming smile on her face, Patsy swam out and wrapped her arms around Delia, her voice transparently proud, ‘With flawless form too, I might add.’ 

Delia wrapped her legs around Patsy and grinned down at her, ‘That’s because your throw was absolutely _perfect_.’ 

‘Mmm. And with that I think I’m going to get out of the water. It feels nice to end on a high note.’ 

Delia didn’t try to hide her disappointment, ‘You’re done already?’ 

‘You can stay for as long as you’d like, but I’m going to turn into a prune if I’m in the water any longer. Anyway, all of that tossing you around has made me a bit peckish.’

She gave Delia a conciliatory peck on the cheek before trudging onto the shore and making her way over to her pack. Delia watched her curiously as she began unpacking an assortment of containers and laying them out on a blanket. 

‘Pats, did you bring a picnic?’ 

Patsy nodded, ‘I even managed to pilfer some of Monica Joan’s freshly baked cake and some of the ham she’s been saving for a special occasion. This felt special enough to me.’ 

Delia beamed at her from the pond, ‘I see your quest to spoil me continues unabated.’ 

Patsy shrugged, though she looked pleased, ‘You continue to be worth it.’

She worked for a bit longer in silence before indicating everything was ready. Delia scrambled out of the pond and made her way to the blanket. She looked over the delectable looking spread in awe, ‘Gosh, Pats. This is simply wonderful. Thank you for planning such a fabulous afternoon.’ 

‘Well, you mentioned your love for swimming during the Before the Reckoning conversation, and this felt like the very least I could do after you’ve been so fabulously supportive. And after your two extraordinarily thoughtful surprises.’ 

Delia snorted, ‘Both of which ended in absolute disaster. Really, we should consider ourselves lucky I wasn’t the one who planned _this_ surprise. I’m sure I would have found some way to set the pond on fire.’ 

Patsy chuckled, pouring some tea out of a thermos. Delia sat on the blanket, her shorts riding up over her thigh as she did, revealing her scar. 

Patsy paused and stared for a moment, seemingly taken aback. She pointed, ‘Is that from when you got shot?’ 

Delia nodded, a bit perplexed. Patsy _must_ have seen plenty of scars throughout her life. It was peculiar that this one would merit any particular interest. 

‘It looks…odd, for a gunshot wound.’ Patsy was simply staring at it, her voice a bit far off. 

Delia took a moment to really examine Patsy before she replied. The redhead was a bit pale and looked markedly distant, as if she were in another world entirely. 

‘Well, like I said, it was more of a graze. That’s why it looks more like a scar from a knife wound…it kind of sliced through me. And we didn’t have access to medical care, so it healed open, making it unusually large.’ 

Patsy furrowed her brow, ‘Like a knife wound,’ she mumbled under her breath so softly Delia could barely hear it. 

Delia looked at Patsy’s shorts with renewed interest. She had originally attributed their surprising length to an unexpected quirk of the redhead’s style. But now, she wondered if there was another reason Patsy had chosen such a conservative clothing option. If there was something that she was choosing to keep covered. 

She decided to try to bring Patsy back to the present, ‘Don’t let its superficial nature fool you, though. It still hurt like the Dickens. And since you met Abigail when she came to pick up Gillian, I’m sure you can imagine how she reacted to me suddenly writhing in pain on the ground.’ 

Patsy, who had been staring hazily at Delia’s leg, jerked her head up, her eyes focusing on Delia’s once again, a soft smile breaking out across her lips, ‘Mmm…yes, I can picture her getting you up again with impressive speed.’ 

‘That she did. Basically dragged me to the van and threw me in. Remarkably, I was spared a lecture until much later.’ 

Patsy smirked, apparently successfully diverted, ‘Tough love and stern lectures? It sounds a bit like you have a type when it comes to your choice of mentors.’ 

Delia laughed and casually adjusted her position so the scar was covered, ‘I suppose they have a few similarities, but really Abigail and Phyllis are quite different. Abigail is much more open with her affection, and Phyllis is much more of a rule-follower.’ 

‘Ah yes, it _was_ suspicious how quickly Mrs Bissette made her way here to pick up Gillian. There was simply no way a travel permit could have been processed in that amount of time.’ 

Delia snorted, ‘I don’t think there’s ever been a time when Abigail waited for a permit for anything. If there’s something that needs to be done, she’s simply going to do it.’

Patsy raised an eyebrow, her tone light, ‘I’m not sure how I feel about Gillian being introduced into such a rule-breaking family.’ 

Delia smiled. Patsy’s voice was warm and affectionate and Delia felt a bloom of pride at just how much Patsy had seemed to like Abigail. They hadn’t spoken to each other much, but Patsy had watched Abigail’s interactions with Gillian like a hawk, and it appeared that the counsellor had passed whatever silent test the redhead had been administering.

‘Hey now, you’re talking about the people who raised me through my mid teenage years.’ 

‘Is that supposed to _alleviate_ my concerns?’ 

Delia chuckled and swatted at Patsy playfully. 

The redhead giggled and leaned away for a moment, before picking up a piece of the cake and taking a small bite, ‘Speaking of breaking the rules, I’ve been curious, what have you been giving Fred in exchange for all of the surprises you’ve been getting me? I can’t imagine showerheads and fencing manuals come cheap.’ 

Delia reached down for a slice of the ham, ‘Sometimes I repair things for him, but for the most part I give him records.’ 

‘Records?’ Patsy sounded horrified, ‘But you’ve worked so hard on putting together your music collection.’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘Fred has…odd musical tastes, so I didn’t really mind much.’ 

Patsy smiled, ‘I’m not sure someone who loves power ballads should be maligning the musical tastes of others. Glass houses and all that.’ 

‘What _is_ it with you and Trixie and your disdain for power ballads? Let some joy into your life, Pats.’ 

‘They just have so much… _emoting_.’ Patsy squinched up her face is distaste. 

Delia chuckled, ‘But then when you sing them you can _fake_ emote. It lets you get out your emotions without having to actually express them.’ 

Patsy shook her head, looking a bit nonplussed, ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ 

The conversation meandered on from there, as they spent the next hour munching on the snacks and chatting amiably about everything from musical tastes to each of their favourite haunts when they were on leave in the Bloc. It felt so nice to just be able to sit and talk with Patsy without the possibility of a summons to the medical tent looming over their conversation. Without the unspoken pull of all of their obligations hanging over them. There was nothing else they _should_ be doing. They could just _be_ …together. 

Once they had finished their picnic, Patsy sent Delia off to jump in the water and cool off while she tidied up. From her spot floating contentedly on the surface of the pond, Delia felt a rush of affection as she watched Patsy methodically wrap everything up and place it into her pack. The redhead had planned an entire afternoon, had pilfered picnic supplies, had gotten…and stayed…in the water despite Delia’s less-than-elegant way of requesting her presence. And Patsy had done it all…for _her_. Delia really had no idea how she had gotten so lucky. 

Once the blanket was cleared off, Patsy lay down on it and closed her eyes, seeming to just bask in the peace of the moment. After a few minutes, Delia pulled herself from the water, deciding that lying next to Patsy was worth giving up time in the pool. She plopped down next to the redhead and took her hand. Patsy gave it a small squeeze and sighed contentedly. 

They simply lay there for a while, watching the clouds float lazily across the sky. A soft breeze sent a slight chill through Delia as it ran over her wet body. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been this happy. This fulfilled. She couldn’t imagine anything ever being better than this. She released a satisfied sigh.

‘Thank you for this absolutely extraordinary afternoon, Pats. The swimming, the picnic, lying here with you. This might just be the very best moment I’ll ever have in my entire life.’ 

Patsy was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke she sounded just a tiny bit nervous and mildly…mischievous? 

‘This _is_ quite wonderful, but I think it can get better than this. In fact, I think that this very moment can get even better.’ 

‘Oh?’ Delia turned her head, curious. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the look in Patsy’s eye. _Oh._

Patsy turned on her side and reached out her hand to stroke Delia’s cheek, ‘You know Deels, I think that for the very first time, we find ourselves quite alone. No Trixie in the next bed over. No other responsibilities in a camp full of people. Just us.’ 

Delia couldn’t quite breathe as she stared at Patsy and silently nodded, hoping beyond hope that, finally, this might actually be headed where she thought it was. Not wanting to speak lest she break the spell. 

‘I can think of one or two ways we might be able to celebrate this little slice of solitude. If you’d be interested?’ 

Delia voice cracked slightly as she tried in vain not to sound overly enthusiastic, ‘I would be _very_ interested.’ 

Patsy quirked her lip up in an adorable smile before leaning in and bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss that quickly grew more heated. Patsy brought her hand from Delia’s jaw to her back, pulling their bodies flush, and Delia’s brain almost short-circuited as she felt Patsy’s bare stomach press against hers. She moaned and brought her hand behind Patsy’s head, deepening the kiss. 

The moan seemed to spur Patsy on as she rolled herself on top of Delia, their kissing growing more urgent. Delia was overtaken by an acute need to touch every part of Patsy at once. To take advantage of this rare opportunity to explore each other fully. She eventually settled for running her hands along Patsy’s back and down to her hips, pressing them closer together. 

Patsy readjusted slightly, bringing her thigh between Delia’s legs and pressing it against her core. The sudden pressure on the area she was so desperate to be touched caused Delia to pull back with a gasp as a surge of desire shot through her. 

Patsy paused, breathing heavily, her eyes dark with lust, though a hint of concern peeked through, ‘Are you alright? Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘God, Pats…yes,’ Delia managed between breaths. 

Patsy simply smiled down at her for a moment, her eyes filled with warmth as they scanned Delia’s face, ‘You’re so incredibly beautiful.’ 

Before Delia could respond, Patsy leaned back down, crushing their lips together. Delia’s mind was spinning as she tried to process what she wanted to do next. 

Suddenly, Patsy was trailing hot kisses down her chest, her hand wandering down Delia’s belly to flirt with the waistband of her shorts, and Delia simply surrendered herself to the sensations. The warmth of Patsy’s body pressed against hers. Her heart pounding so forcefully she felt like it might burst from her chest. The persistent thrumming pulsing in her core. This was finally really happening. The anticipation alone was almost overwhelming, and Delia couldn’t stop her hips from surging upwards against Patsy’s thigh as the redhead pulled down one of the cups of her sports bra and took Delia’s nipple between her teeth, biting down gently.

‘Shit!’ 

Abruptly, Patsy’s warmth was gone as she sprang off of Delia onto the far side of the blanket, looking mortified as she adjusted her top and shorts.

‘What’s wrong, Pats?’ Delia sat up, still breathing heavily, before she heard what Patsy had. 

A jovial male voice echoed through the trees, ‘…and because no one knows about this place but me, you ladies are assured complete privacy in your attempts to escape the heat.’ 

Delia quickly set her top back in order, glancing over at Patsy, who looked a mixture of flustered and perturbed. Delia was glad that the heat of the day could reasonably mask the reason for their flushed features. 

Fred appeared at the edge of the clearing, his back towards them as he gestured towards the pool, ‘Here we are ladies…your oasis awaits.’ 

Winifred and Barbara emerged out into the open, eyeing the pool with excitement and relief. Barbara’s look shifted to utter horror as her eyes fell on Patsy and Delia sitting on the blanket. 

‘Oh gosh, Patsy, I’m so sorry,’ she stuttered awkwardly, ‘We were just so hot and Fred came by camp and said there a secret place only he knew about where we could cool off.’ 

Delia was surprised to see that all traces of annoyance or embarrassment had been wiped from Patsy’s face. She was shocked by the effectiveness of the redhead’s façade and the speed with which she had put it in place. Delia, meanwhile, was still trying to control her breathing and calm her racing heart. When the redhead spoke, her voice sounded lightly teasing at worst.

‘Well, I’m afraid he was stretching the truth a bit with that one,’ she shot Fred a pointed look, ‘Everyone in camp knows about this little sanctuary, though we don’t often find the time to come here.’ She paused for a moment and glanced back at the pond, ‘And I suppose it _is_ too nice of a day for Delia and I to claim it all for ourselves. You should stay and take a dip. Isn’t that right, Deels?’

Delia was taken by surprise. She had been completely entranced by how _smooth_ Patsy was. Unflustered in any way. It was as if they hadn’t just been about to…. Delia shook her head as she felt a flush creeping up her neck. She couldn’t think about that right now. It caused all kinds of feelings that weren’t appropriate now that they had company. She belatedly realized that she’d just been staring and rushed to recover, blurting out her response a bit too loudly, ‘Of course. The water is perfect.’ 

Winifred, who, despite her usual awkwardness about their relationship seemed shockingly oblivious to what they had disturbed, beamed at Patsy, ‘That really is so kind of you, Patsy. It’s hot enough out that really the only way to be comfortable is to find some way of getting wet.’ 

Delia couldn’t help the thoroughly unladylike snerking noise that emanated from her throat, and she noted with some satisfaction that Barbara’s face was turning increasingly red. Patsy’s features remained inscrutable as she responded with apparent earnestness, ‘You know, Winifred, I’ve never been one for getting wet, even when it’s at its hottest, but Delia was just so enthusiastic today that I couldn’t help myself. And I must say, it _is_ quite nice.’ 

Barbara had turned a mildly worrisome shade of puce, and Delia’s mouth fell open as she eyed Patsy in disbelief. She’d never seen Patsy be this relaxed and mischievous in front of other people, and she had to admit that it was incredibly alluring, if surprising. 

Winifred bustled over towards where they were sitting, ‘You’ve found just a wonderful little spot of shade here. Barbara, help me set up this blanket.’

Barbara made an odd questioning sort of croaking noise as she glanced over at Delia, who could only shrug and nod. Though obviously still extremely embarrassed, Barbara shuffled over to help Winifred. Fred, muttering apologies and shooting nervous glances in Patsy’s direction, almost immediately made himself scarce.

As the other two set up the blanket, Patsy turned to Delia and winked. Delia felt a little bolt shoot through her and she internally bemoaned the fact that they had been interrupted. Patsy was so incredibly sexy, smirking confidently in her bra and shorts, and Delia didn’t _want_ to have to contain the desire that was coursing through her. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to happen now, and that was alright. This was still a lovely afternoon, and she should make the best of it. She smiled softly back at Patsy. 

‘There!’ Winifred looked delightedly down at the blanket spread out in the shade, ‘Now all I need is a place to change,’ she pulled a suit out of her bag and swivelled her head around, ‘I suppose I could just go find a secluded spot behind a tree.’ 

Suddenly, they were disturbed by what sounded like some kind of large creature crashing through the woods, the sound of snapping twigs and cracking branches moving closer by the second. Delia saw Barbara pull a baton out of her bag and a flash of panic shot through her as she realized she hadn’t brought anything to defend herself with. Something nudged her shoulder and she turned to see Patsy extending the hilt of a large hunting knife towards her. As Delia took it, grateful to not feel so vulnerable, she silently mouthed ‘Reaper?’ 

‘If it is, it’s rabid,’ Patsy muttered quietly as she slipped to the front of the group, positioning herself next to Barbara.

They all waited in apprehensive silence as the noise got closer and closer. 

Delia saw a flash of movement through the understory, and Barbara and Patsy nodded to each other, preparing to launch themselves at their attacker. 

The creature burst out of the underbrush and into the clearing, and Delia saw both of her compatriots abruptly halt their attacks as they all simultaneously realized that their assailant was in fact Trixie Franklin. 

‘Good Lord, Trixie! You should know better than to tear through the woods making an incredible ruckus. I thought you were a rabid Reaper. I almost skewered you!’ Patsy looked both exasperated and relieved. 

Trixie screeched to a halt. She looked more dishevelled than Delia had ever seen, her face flushed and sweaty, ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how much noise I was making. Nurse Crane mentioned that Fred was taking these two to an oasis of some kind and I was rushing to try catch them before they disturbed you.’ 

‘Well you’re a bit late on that front.’ 

‘Thank you, Patience. That is now patently clear,’ she took a deep breath and brought her hands up to fix her hair. Her eyes fell on the blanket Winifred was standing on and she quirked an eyebrow questioningly, ‘They’re staying?’ 

Patsy nodded, ‘And now that you’re here you might as well join us too.’ 

Trixie’s face broke out into a smile, ‘I do believe I’ll take you up on that generous offer. I need to cool off after rushing up that bloody hill.’ She reached down into the small satchel at her side and pulled out a swimsuit, glancing around, ‘Now I just need to find a place to change.’ 

Patsy raised a sceptical eyebrow, though she sounded more amused than anything, ‘I can see you moved with the utmost speed and efficiency to ensure Delia and I retained our privacy.’ 

Trixie shrugged and sauntered over to the blankets, placing her satchel on the ground, ‘I had to grab a mobile beacon, so I also nabbed my swimsuit while I was at it. It added five seconds at most. I didn’t want to have wasted the trek up here if I didn’t make it in time, and I knew they had a sizeable head start.’ She began walking with purpose towards a cluster of particularly dense shrubs, ‘I’ll be back in a moment, ladies. Those bushes look like just the perfect place to change into my ensemble.’ 

Winifred, who had been eyeing the woods a bit nervously, as if realizing for the first time they could harbour myriad threats, looked down at her own suit and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot for a moment before finally blurting out, ‘I think I’ll change there too.’ 

Trixie froze, practically bristling with displeasure. She glanced momentarily at Delia, who shot her a warning glare. Taking a deep breath, she pasted on a fairly unconvincing smile and turned to Winifred, ‘Of course. Safety in numbers and all that.’ 

Trixie shot Delia an aggrieved look as Winifred skittered ahead of her with a grateful smile.

Barbara, meanwhile, took off her uniform to reveal a matching pair of shorts to Delia’s. She immediately jumped into the water, releasing a contented sigh as she came to the surface, ‘You’re right, Delia. The water _is_ perfect.’ 

Delia smiled and spoke softly so only Patsy could hear, ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to hop in with the others. I need to _cool down_ a bit,’ she winked knowingly.

Patsy flushed slightly, ‘I don’t mind at all, though I’m going to stay here, I think. I’ve just gotten dry and being in the water once is plenty for me.’ 

Delia nodded and gave Patsy a peck on the cheek before plunging in. 

Winifred emerged from the bushes, assessing the scene in front of her, ‘You’re not getting in the water Patsy?’ 

Delia called out from the pond, ‘No, she doesn’t feel up for getting in again.’ 

‘ _Again_?’ Trixie, who’d just returned herself, looked back and forth between the two of them in shock before finally staring at Delia in obvious awe, ‘You got her to get in the water? How on _earth_ did you manage that?’ 

‘She was very _convincing_ ,’ Patsy’s amused voice rang out, ‘I assure you there will _not_ be an encore.’ 

Trixie and Winifred jumped in as well, and the four of them splashed and frolicked for a bit. Patsy, meanwhile, set herself up leaning on her backpack on the blanket, watching the proceedings with bemused interest and occasionally making pithy commentary. Eventually, their initial spurt of energy died down, and they all settled for lounging about in the water, taking the rare opportunity to simply unwind. 

Barbara sighed as she floated lazily, ‘I must say, I’m pleased that we’ve finished re-setting perimeter security. It helped a great deal during the attack, but it’s terribly hot working out by the fence for hours and hours.’ 

‘It’s not as if what we’re tackling next is going to get markedly more comfortable,’ Delia countered, ‘Tomorrow, we go back to working full-time on the incendiary system. That’s going to be just as hot. I think our only hope, really, is that this heat breaks. Or that Phyllis takes pity on us and lets us relax until it’s cooler.’ 

‘It’s too bad Phyllis had to work in the medical tent this afternoon. She would have really enjoyed this,’ Winifred sounded a bit wistful. 

‘Nurse Crane swims?’ Patsy cut in disbelievingly. 

Winifred cocked her head to the side, ‘Well, not usually, but she would have really enjoyed putting her feet in the water.’ 

‘Well, I don’t understand why I still have to call her Nurse Crane,’ Trixie sounded horribly put-upon, ‘At our welcome dinner she said that I could call her Phyllis when I’d risked my _life and limb_ , as she so dramatically put it, to save hers. Well, we fought a pitched battle together, and I assumed that would count. But I was _thoroughly_ chided for calling her Phyllis a few days ago.’ 

Barbara responded, amused, ‘Trix, the two of you never actually fought together. You were with Winifred and I the entire time.’ 

‘Well, we were together all night in the medical tent afterwards. I think that should count for something.’ 

The mention of that night caused an awkward silence to fall over the group. Delia glanced nervously as Patsy, noting with some relief that, while the redhead seemed pensive, she appeared to be fully in the present. There were a few moments of silence as they all seemed unsure how to address this topic they’d been studiously avoiding.

Blessedly, Barbara broke the tension, ‘Don’t feel too badly, Trixie, it’s an honour that’s not granted lightly. Delia actually had her right to call her Phyllis revoked briefly right after it had been given.’ 

‘Really, how did you manage that?’ 

Delia splashed Barbara playfully, ‘You never fail to bring up embarrassing moments from my past,’ she turned to Trixie, taking a deep breath as she launched into her story, ‘One day, Phyllis saw me fiddling with this little distraction device I was trying to make that shoots up a burst of flame and asked if I thought I could make her a flamethrower. It seemed like a fun challenge, so I said yes. I finished it the day after she’d first told me I could call her Phyllis, and I was so excited to show it to her.’ 

‘But she didn’t test it fully first.’ Winifred cut in with amusement. 

‘I tested it on most settings! And I was going to tell her not to press the ‘turbo’ button quite yet, but I think she just got excited. She strapped it on and pressed it right away, and there was just this terrible clicking noise and then a poof of flames, and the next thing we knew she was standing there, her face all bright red and covered in soot and her eyebrows singed off.’ 

‘You burned Nurse Crane’s eyebrows off! Delia, how are you even still _alive_ right now, let alone a member of the Quartet?’ Trixie exclaimed through laughter. 

‘That’s not even the _best_ part!’ Winifred spoke up again, affecting passable versions of their accents as she mimicked her teammates, ‘So Delia runs up and says _Oh Phyllis, I’m so sorry! The turbo setting wasn’t quite ready yet!_ , and then Phyllis just gives her a hard stare and, completely deadpan, says _I think it’s best if you call me Ms Crane for the moment. At this precise instant I need every bit of dignity I can muster_.’ 

Patsy couldn’t hold back her own laughter, ‘And when did you get the privilege of calling her Phyllis again?’ 

‘Once I had fixed the flamethrower. It just needed a few tweaks.’

Barbara cut in, ‘That’s when we first learned that while Delia’s inventions always turn out fabulously in the end, they often require a few tweaks, so it’s best not to participate in the initial testing phase.’ 

Patsy smiled, ‘I feel like that particular piece of intelligence would have served me well a week ago when she first made the shower.’ 

Delia felt the need to defend herself, ‘To be fair, the shower was my first high-pressure weld. Sometimes these things take a moment to get right and I always try to allow myself a little leeway to learn,’ she paused for a moment, thinking ‘ _Except_ for explosives. I’m always extremely careful with those from the very beginning.’ 

‘You work with explosives?’ Trixie seemed impressed. 

Delia nodded, ‘I make all of the small explosives for the team. I learned back before I met up with Winifred. I don’t think I know as much as Jane, it sounds like she’s quite the expert, but I can hold my own. And I’m certainly the authority on the team. I don’t think any of them would fiddle around with explosives without me.’ 

Delia was surprised that neither of her teammates jumped in to support that assertion. In fact, they both looked decidedly…awkward. 

Delia was about to get a bit worried when Barbara said, ‘I know _I_ certainly wouldn’t make an explosive on my own without consulting you.’ 

Trixie cut in, ‘Well, if you’ve been making explosives for years, I think the fact that you still have all of your fingers speaks highly enough of your expertise. And I, for one, am _extremely_ grateful that you figured out what you needed to _tweak_ to get that shower of yours perfected. It’s an absolute life-saver, and so much better than Patsy and I’s singular attempt at creating a shower several years ago.’ 

‘Ugh, Trixie, I thought we’d agreed to never speak of that again.’ 

Delia’s curiosity was piqued, ‘Well, you certainly can’t back out now.’ 

Trixie glanced over at Patsy, who released a long exasperated sigh and waved a hand dismissively in Trixie’s direction, ‘Go ahead. It’s not as if I’m going to be able to stop you.’ 

Trixie giggled gleefully, ‘Well, to understand the entire story, you really need to start with Mrs Kimani.’ 

Mrs. Kimani. Delia recognized that name. This was the story that Patsy had been mortified that Trixie might tell the night of the pistachios. She glanced nervously over at the redhead, who was lying on the blanket leaning up against her backpack, looking almost entirely relaxed. But Delia wondered if she was really as unaffected as she seemed. Wanting to provide support, she pulled herself out of the water and made her way over to Patsy. 

‘Patsy had just arrived in camp and was extraordinarily frustrated by the dustiness of all of the dirt floors.’ 

Patsy cut in, sounding exasperated, ‘Dust puffed up any time anyone walked _anywhere_! Every single thing I owned was constantly covered in a thick layer of dirt. It was infuriating. Not to mention unsanitary.’ 

Delia flopped down on the blanket next to Patsy as she spoke, lying down on her side with her head in Patsy’s lap, an arm draped comfortingly over the redhead’s legs. She was rewarded almost instantly when Patsy began playing gently with her hair. She sighed, completely contented, and settled in to hear the rest of the story. 

‘Yes, well, Patsy was whingeing to me about it in the medical tent, and a refugee named Mrs Kimani, who it turns out had been a natural builder before the Reckoning, mentioned that we could always try to make some kind of sturdier flooring surface. I suggested that we pay Mrs Kimani to make a floor for us, but Patsy here insisted it was against the rules for refugees to do work on the camp. So she sat and took copious notes and ordered a bunch of strange things from HQ, determined to do it all by herself. One day I returned to our tent to find every single possession we owned stacked up outside, and Patsy sitting forlornly on the ground covered head-to-toe in some kind of rock-hard muddy compound. I’m still not sure how she managed to get _that_ dirty.’

‘I told you. I’d been trying to both mix it and lay it on the ground before it dried, but I couldn’t move quickly enough and then I slipped and fell into it, and kept sliding around trying to get up, and it was all just an utter disaster.’ 

Trixie’s eyes twinkled with amusement, ‘Yes, well, I’d managed to convince Mrs Kimani to stay in camp for a bit, to assist with this very eventuality. So I fetched her and the look she gave Patsy was just absolutely _classic_. She sent her off to the bathhouse and requisitioned a number of other refugees to help her in laying down just a perfect floor.’ 

‘But Trixie, that _is_ against the rules. Didn’t you get in terrible trouble?’ Barbara sounded profoundly sceptical. 

Patsy cut in, sounding exceedingly proud of herself, ‘I managed to save her skin by altering Mrs Kimani’s paperwork slightly and convincing HQ that I’d contracted her to do all of our floors. I got reprimanded for signing a contract without approval, but Camp Poplar now has the nicest floors in the entire refugee camp system.’ 

Trixie laughed, ‘You owed me, Patience, for help you get cleaned up.’ 

‘I was wondering where the shower was going to fit into all of this.’ Delia twisted her head briefly to smirk up at Patsy. 

‘Patsy couldn’t get cleaned up with a bucket shower because there was just too much of the mud on her and it was too stuck on. So we devised a shower system using one of Monica Joan’s big watering cans. But Ms Mount complicated things considerably by insisting that it would be simply scandalous if I were to get a peek at her naked form. So she made me stand on a ladder on the other side of the shower cubicle with my back turned, pouring hot water out of a watering can over my shoulder. With all of the re-fills, it took over an hour, and I nearly dropped the can on her head several times. I assure you it was the most ridiculous scene I’ve ever been a part of.’ 

‘And one that I’ve repaid you for ever since.’

‘Yes you have. And that’s the story of why Patsy provides me with a lifetime supply of mud masks.’ 

‘And why it’s _so_ much nicer to have Delia’s fabulous shower than Trixie with a watering can,’ Patsy said with finality. 

But Trixie wasn’t done quite yet, ‘The _best_ part, though was that Patsy had some kind of reaction to the compound that made her break out in just the most terrible rash. So she spent some of her first weeks here walking around looking like a bumpy ripe tomato!’ 

‘Yes, thank you, Trixie, I’m sure that addition was entirely necessary to the story.’ 

Trixie scoffed, ‘Oh please, you looked stunning even bright red and covered in lumps. Though the lumps went away when Mrs Kimani gave you that ointment, which must have cost her a fortune to obtain.’ 

‘And I made sure I paid her back too.’ 

‘How?’ Barbara sounded curious.

‘She had a brother who was still stuck in an exemption zone because their family had only been able to afford one passage with a beacon group. I pulled some strings and made sure that he had a passage with another local group within the month.’

Delia twisted her body around so she was lying on her back and stared up at Patsy, completely shocked. The redhead had said it as if it had been the easiest thing in the world. Just ‘pulling a few strings.’ When Patsy had said that she had a few connections, Delia hadn’t had any idea they were at _that_ level. No wonder she’d been able to get gin. 

Winifred’s uncertain voice broke through the silence that had fallen over the group, ‘You know people involved in the beacon-placement black market? Patsy, those are extremely _intense_ people. Delia and I were involved with them briefly and they’re _scary_.’ 

‘Oh no. I don’t interact with that particular market. Charging people to be a part of beacon groups is reprehensible. But I do I know people who hold a certain amount of _leverage_ over placement-sellers.’ 

‘It’s not as if the people who hold leverage over terrifying black market dealers would be any less scary,’ Barbara sounded in awe. 

Patsy shrugged, ‘Not to me. Though I suppose they could be a bit intimidating if you didn’t know them.’ 

Barbara simply shook her head and stared in wonder. 

Trixie cut in jovially, ‘See, Patsy, I told you that you’d have the connections to make an excellent spy if you ever wanted to live a life of daring and adventure.’ 

Patsy chuckled and gestured down towards Delia, ‘Rooming with you and being with this one are adventure enough for me, Trix.’ 

Delia felt her heart leap into her throat. Patsy had just said she was ‘with’ her. Casually. As if it was the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. An immutable reality. 

She beamed up at Patsy, ‘So being with me is an adventure, huh?’ 

Patsy smirked back, running her finger along Delia’s cheek and nodding, ‘Mmhm. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ 

Delia turned and placed a light kiss on Patsy’s stomach, before shifting back onto her side to idly watch Trixie, Barbara and Winifred’s antics in the pond. 

She felt Patsy lean down and kiss her lightly on the temple before relaxing back into the backpack and releasing a contented sigh. An almost overwhelming sense of satisfaction coursed through Delia as she felt Patsy run her hands through her hair, tucking it behind her ear and playing idly with the little ringlets at the nape of her neck. 

Patsy had said they were together, and Delia realized with a singular clarity that that was a reality she wanted to protect. She didn’t know what she was going to do about her team, but she knew that she was going to find a way to make this work. That this wasn’t something that she was willing to give up. She gave Patsy’s legs a little squeeze, wishing they could stay just like this forever.

As if to taunt her desire, Trixie called out from the pond, ‘Patsy, you have a watch up there. How much longer do we have until we should head back?’ 

Patsy adjusted slightly to glance at her watch, ‘If we want to be back for shift change, we have about thirty minutes before we should pack up.’ 

Trixie huffed and made an offhanded comment about how they simply weren’t allowed enough time to relax, but Delia wasn’t really paying attention. In this instant, any negative thoughts seemed to flow around her, unable to break through the wall of her happiness. 

She had thirty minutes left to enjoy what was undoubtedly one of the best afternoons of her life, and she was going to relish every second.


	21. Delia Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Monica Joan is feeling inspired to recite words from the plays and poetry of esteemed American playwright August Wilson. Enjoy!

Delia probably wouldn’t have noticed the rustling if Patsy hadn’t tensed and stopped stroking her hair. The quiet swishing moved closer and closer, almost as if a bird were flitting through the underbrush towards them. But birds didn’t hum.

Patsy relaxed as soon as the melodious sound of the humming reached them, leaning back against the pack and resuming her gentle caresses of Delia’s head. Delia remained curious, though she could make an educated guess as to who it was. Her suspicions were confirmed when Patsy called out into the woods.

‘Just so you know, there’s a group of us here at the reservoir, Monica Joan. Don’t be startled.’ 

The old cook wandered out of the trees, a basket full of assorted greens slung over her arm, ‘It would be difficult to be startled by ones making such a generous amount of noise. The mellifluous sounds of your laughter echo through the woods, as if even the trees were sharing in your joy.’ 

‘I’m sorry if we disturbed you.’ 

Monica Joan made a dismissive noise as she looked down at Patsy and Delia indulgently, ‘You have disturbed nothing but the pall that has fallen over our great land, for _All you need in the world is love and laughter. That’s all anybody needs. To have love in one hand and laughter in the other_ , and it would appear that today your hands are gloriously full.’ 

Trixie’s admonishing voice called out ‘Speaking of being a handful, Monica Joan, are you all the way out here entirely on your own?’ 

The old cook furrowed her brow, looking hurt and perturbed, ‘ _My face in the mirror. The buttons on my coat. The coin in my pocket. These are my compatriots…My compatriots and I have travelled many roads. Some circuitous, some sharp and straight, others brambled and rough…Some roads have opened to us. Some have refused our bargain and bred landscapes of severe wolves to blunt and discourage our advance_.’ 

Patsy shot Trixie a small smile before turning to their disgruntled co-worker, ‘We know you have plenty of experience out here, and we’re not going to send you away. We’re just surprised to see you all the way out here on such a hot day. You know Julienne warned you against going too far in this heat.’ 

Monica Joan’s wizened face broke into a beaming smile as she brandished the basket towards Patsy, ‘Ah, but I must get to the dandelions and hedge mustard before the heat causes them to become unpalatably bitter,’ she plucked a leaf from the basket and bit down on it, releasing a satisfied hum, ‘It still carries with it the sweetness of spring, despite this unseasonable warmth.’ 

‘Well as long as you’re staying safe,’ Patsy gestured towards the pond, ‘Now that you’re here, why don’t you dip your feet in the water?’

Monica Joan looked utterly delighted as she made her way to the pond, settling herself on the dam, taking off her shoes and plopping her feet into the pond, ‘ _My compatriots and I have come from many places, many tapestries of roads, to come now…to this place rich with welcome_.’ 

Delia eyed the basket of greens, ‘You know, I wish I knew more about foraging. There have been _many_ times when I would have been a lot less hungry if I’d known what local plants I could have for dinner.’ 

‘My parents always said that I shouldn’t lower myself to foraging,’ Winifred spoke blithely, clearly unaware of the potentially insulting nature of her words, ‘That I was supposed to be patient until the arrival of the harvest, in order to appreciate the fruits of my own hard work. That people foraging was a sign that they’d done something wrong. That they were undeserving and had thus been reduced to eating weeds.’ 

‘Winifred! What an utterly horrid thing to say!’ Trixie sounded appalled, her tone blatantly accusatory, ‘Do you think you’re somehow _better_ than those who are trying to survive when the Redemptionists give them nothing?’ 

Winifred looked panicked, ‘What? No! I didn’t mean…I just meant that’s what I was taught. I don’t know—’ 

‘I don’t believe in weeds,’ Monica Joan’s calm voice cut her off. She held up a dandelion leaf and inspected it contemplatively for a moment before brandishing it at Winifred, looking expectant, ‘Taste that glorious flavour.’ 

Winifred looked uncertain, but took the leaf. She looked pensive as she chewed it tentatively, ‘It’s not as bitter as I thought it would be.’ 

Monica Joan nodded, looking elated, ‘The sweetness of spring!’ she hoisted herself up and picked up her basket. She called out as she made her way over to the blanket Winifred had laid down, ‘Weeds are just crops that haven’t been deemed worthy of cultivation. But if it can nurture us, it is worthy of our time and fit for our palates.’ She plopped down with a contented sigh next to Delia and popped another leaf into her mouth, humming contentedly.

Winifred glanced over, seemingly uncertain, before trudging out of the water and approaching them, her brow furrowed. She paused in front of the blankets and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot for a moment before blurting out, ‘I’m sorry if I insulted you, Monica Joan. I don’t know if I think that now. It was just what I was taught…when I was little.’ 

The old cook eyed her pensively for several long moments, _‘When the sins of our fathers visit us, We do not have to play host.’_

Winifred looked down and shrugged, obviously confused and a bit forlorn, ‘But sometimes it’s all I have. All I know. Fighting all of those things all of the time is just so… _hard_. And exhausting. I wish it were easier.’ 

‘Lives of ease are for songbirds,’ Monica Joan furrowed her brow for a moment, ‘Or perhaps hedgehogs. But not us.’ She picked up a leaf and eyed it contemplatively, ‘ _Confront the dark parts of yourself and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing_.’ 

Delia was considering Monica Joan’s words when she felt Patsy suddenly shift underneath her, muttering an apology as she gently lifted Delia’s head and abruptly stood up. Delia was surprised to see that Patsy was radiating an almost palpable tension. It was such a marked and unexpected shift in demeanour that a little bubble of worry nestled itself in Delia’s gut. Something was wrong. 

Patsy rather brusquely began picking up their blanket, and Delia needed to roll off to avoid having it pulled out from under her. She hopped up quickly to help Patsy fold it, but the redhead waved her off, wrapping it up with ease and efficiency and stuffing it into her pack. Once all of the straps on the pack were tightened, she looked up, a false smile gracing her features, ‘Well ladies, this has been a lovely afternoon, but I think it’s time Delia and I headed back…so we have time to get settled a bit before the shift change. Trixie,’ she turned to make eye contact with the blonde, ‘I think we’re going to head back via the tree.’ 

Trixie nodded back meaningfully. Delia shot her a quizzical look once Patsy’s back was turned and the blonde made a gesture that seemed to be trying to relay ‘don’t worry about it,’ though that provided little solace. Delia had known Patsy long enough to recognize what was happening. There was obviously _something_ that Monica Joan’s words had awoken, and now the redhead was overwhelmed. The only question was if this was something that she was going to be able to walk out, or if there was a conversation on the horizon.

Delia turned and noticed that Patsy was already back in her uniform. Cringing slightly at the thought of trousers and long sleeves, Delia made her way to her pile of clothing and began begrudgingly pulling it back on. Once she was re-attired, she made her way to where Patsy was standing, looking pre-occupied, at the edge of the clearing. 

She waved goodbye to the rest of the crew and then turned to Patsy with a soft smile, holding out her hand, ‘Shall we?’ 

Patsy nodded and took Delia’s hand. They began walking in a different direction from the one they had come. Delia wondered what ‘the tree’ was and where they were heading. This certainly wasn’t the most efficient way back to camp, and Delia suspected that they weren’t going to be back in time for shift change. What she wasn’t sure of was _why_. 

They walked in silence for several minutes, making their way out of the trees and along the ridge. Looking to her right, Delia could see the camp in the valley below. It looked so clean and simple and organized from up here. And vulnerable. 

She heard Patsy take a deep breath, ‘Sorry to leave so abruptly.’ 

‘It’s fine, Pats. Really. It was a lovely afternoon, but we were going to have to leave soon anyways.’ 

Patsy gave a tight-lipped smile and a small nod. 

Delia looked up at Patsy as they walked along, feeling her heart drop with every step. The redhead looked so preoccupied, so tense. It had been clear to Delia since the night of the apology that there was something that Patsy wanted to share. Something serious. Something big. But up until now, it simply hadn’t come up, and Delia certainly wasn’t going to push. 

But now, as she took in Patsy…her furrowed brow, the worried, far-off look in her eye, the tight clench of her jaw, Delia sensed that the time had come, and the thought made her stomach clench. It wasn’t that she didn’t cherish the times Patsy opened up to her. She appreciated every single truth the redhead had confided and treasured the connection they shared. But that didn’t mean hearing about the horrible things Patsy had survived was easy. Sitting and listening to Patsy talk about the camps had been agonizing. To have to hear the pain and self-hatred and fear in Patsy’s voice, and to feel so completely, utterly _helpless_. She wanted to be able to snatch away every ounce of the redhead’s pain, but she couldn’t. All she could do was sit and provide whatever modicum of support she could. And while it was something she was prepared to do over and over again if Patsy needed it, this afternoon had been so carefree. Muddying it with anguish just didn’t seem fair. 

Suddenly Patsy’s voice broke through her thoughts, ‘Deels, do you mind if I ask you a question?’ 

Delia steeled herself, ‘Of course you can, Pats.’ 

‘Back at the pond, when Winifred said you two were _involved_ in the beacon black market, did you…did you sell beacon placements?’ 

Delia felt herself relax. Was that all this was about? That would be such a relief. 

‘Of _course_ not! I would never do anything like that. I think that charging people exorbitant amounts to be part of beacon groups is as reprehensible as you do. Winifred was referring to a small side project we started about a month before we met up with Phyllis and Barbara. On one of my supply runs I came upon a large shipment of portable beacons, and, on a whim, I stole a bunch of them. I snuck into a nearby Exemption Zone and started distributing them free of charge, so that people could escape on their own.’

Patsy looked down at her in shock, ‘Delia, that’s extraordinarily dangerous.’ 

‘I know that _now_ , but I didn’t really at the time. I didn’t even consider that anyone other than the Redemptionists would have a problem with it until one of my contacts on the trail we used to get indoctrination camp escapees to the Bloc informed me that the black market was atwitter about some crazy kid distributing beacons. Apparently there was a bit of a bounty on me.’ She couldn’t hide the pride from her voice and she saw Patsy’s face contort in disapproval. 

‘Please tell me you stopped.’ 

I wouldn’t say that I _stopped_ so much as I became a lot smarter about how I distributed them. Winifred was utterly terrified, but for me, the virulence of the response was more of an indication that I was doing something right. Some kid distributing twenty beacons really shouldn’t even cause a ripple. If that was disturbing an entire system, that meant nothing was as stable as it appeared. The system could be overthrown…we just needed to come up with a consistent, workable way to get beacons to people.’ 

‘You found out about the beacon black market and immediately decided to overthrow it?’ 

‘Of course. It’s a terrible system. I seriously thought about transitioning from rescuing people to working on it full time, but I didn’t want to just abandon people who were in the camps. People in Exemption Zones could at least buy their way out. We were the only chance people in camps had. But we did keep working on it in the meantime. Looking for weak spots in the system. Beginning to set up rudimentary distribution chains. And I think we were making a bit of progress, actually, though it was utterly exhausting, trying to do both at once. But then we met Phyllis and Barbara, and I had to give up both projects.’ 

Patsy was quiet for a long while, a pensive, far-off look in her eye. Her silence lasted long enough that Delia almost thought she simply wasn’t going to respond when suddenly her voice cut through the hot summer air, ‘If you don’t mind my asking, how _did_ you meet Nurse Crane and Barbara?’ 

‘I don’t mind at all. One evening, Winifred and I dropped an escapee off at the first house on one of our trails to the Bloc, and the owners invited us to stay the night. Invites like that were pretty common, and we always jumped at any opportunity to sleep in an actual bed, so we took them up on it. Later that night, I was in the kitchen chatting with our hosts when Phyllis and Barbara showed up at the back door. They’d just completed a mission to obtain some classified files and this house was apparently known as a safe stopping point for Bloc spies as well. Anyway, we stayed up most of the night chatting, and I suppose the rest is history.’ She paused, glancing up at Patsy, ‘Why do you ask?’ 

Patsy shrugged, ‘I’ve just always been curious, I suppose,’ she paused for a moment, her brow furrowed, ‘I know you were making progress with the beacons, but I’m glad that you got out of that business before you got hurt. Winifred wasn’t wrong when she described the people involved as scary.’ 

Delia was distracted from her planned response when they reached the far edge of the ridge and she saw the tree. Next to a small creek running through the valley below was a solitary, absolutely massive tree, at least thirty meters tall with an expansive canopy. She turned to Patsy. 

‘Is that the tree you mentioned to Trixie?’ 

Patsy nodded and began making her way down the hill towards it, ‘It’s a black poplar. The camp is named after it, actually. Originally they were going to build it here, next to the creek, but then they decided not to risk hurting the tree and moved the camp one valley over. Black poplars are incredibly rare on the island, and are almost never found north of Cheshire.’ They reached the valley and approached the tree. Patsy looked up at it almost reverentially, ‘But she’s managed to live all the way up here for probably about one hundred and fifty years. Even though she’s in the wrong habitat, she manages to persevere…to survive.’ 

‘She?’ 

‘MmHm. Black poplars have male and female individuals, and every spring this one produces beautiful female flowers.’ 

‘I didn’t know you knew so much about trees.’ 

‘I don’t really,’ Patsy chuckled, ‘When I first arrived at Camp Poplar, I think Monica Joan sensed I was struggling and brought me here one day and told me all about it. She focused a bit more on its relationship to Greek mythology, but I remember just feeling so…connected to it.’ She put down her bags and walked up to the tree, placing a hand lovingly on the bark, ‘If _she_ can survive up here, all alone, where she’s not supposed to be…’ she trailed off. 

Delia waited for a moment before coming up behind Patsy and wrapping her arms around her, holding her tight. Patsy pressed back slightly into the hug, but stayed tense. 

‘You’ve done so much more than just survive, Pats. You’ve _thrived_. Like this tree, you’ve _made_ a place for yourself. A place where you belong. Where you’re doing so much good. And as for being alone…’ Delia released her arms and snuck around so she could look Patsy in the eye. She brought a hand to Patsy’s cheek, ‘You’re not alone anymore, alright?’

Patsy looked down at her for a long moment, her eyes searching Delia’s face, as if she were looking for something. Delia did her best to communicate every ounce of sincerity and care and love that she felt through her eyes. To find a way to relay to Patsy that she was serious. She wasn’t ever going to leave Patsy to face her fears alone. 

Eventually, Patsy gave a small nod and leaned forward, wrapping herself around Delia, holding her close. Delia nestled into Patsy’s embrace, returning the hug fiercely, as if she could squeeze out all of Patsy’s sadness and doubt and pain. 

When the redhead finally drew back, her eyes were glistening slightly, but her body seemed more relaxed, ‘Is it alright if we just stay here under the tree for a bit? I just feel…calmer here.’ 

‘Of course. This is a lovely spot.’ 

Patsy smiled and set her pack against the tree, sitting on the ground and leaning back against it. She held out her arms, beckoning Delia to come join her. 

Delia’s heart fluttered as she sat and snuggled into Patsy’s arms, her head resting on Patsy’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around Patsy’s waist. She closed her eyes, simply relishing the feeling of being so close. The encompassing canopy of the tree helped to moderate the heat and created an almost magical dappled light. There was a slight breeze that carried a sweet balsam scent. Delia breathed it in deeply and burrowed further into the redhead’s embrace, allowing herself to completely relax. 

She wondered if the beacon black market was really all that Patsy had been preoccupied with. While she hoped so, she doubted it. There had been too much worry in Patsy’s eyes, too much wistfulness in her tone when she’d talked about the tree. But perhaps the walk and the snuggling had helped to quiet the more insistent voices for now. 

Delia felt Patsy’s deep intake of breath, so she was prepared for the redhead’s voice when it cut through the peace of the moment. She sounded contemplative and distant, as if she were asking about a distant time or far off place. 

‘Of all of the things that you’ve done in your life, Deels, what are you most ashamed of?’

Delia felt her heart sink. It appeared the conversation she feared was inevitable. Their perfect afternoon was in danger of being overshadowed by the past. By the demons that haunted each of them. Delia selfishly wished that this could wait for another time. That this blissful day wouldn’t be tarnished by talk of things she spent most of her time trying to forget. 

But she also knew that Patsy wouldn’t be bringing it up now if it wasn’t important. If something hadn’t been pushed painfully to the surface by Monica Joan’s words. She tamped down her own desires and put herself into a mental space to provide support. What was important right now was Patsy.

The redhead’s voice cut nervously through her thoughts, ‘I’m sorry. That’s not really a fair question, is it? You don’t have to answer.’ 

Delia shook her head and gripped Patsy around her middle, giving her a little squeeze, ‘It’s alright, Pats. You don’t have to apologize. I want you to know about my past, even the hard parts. And if it feel important to have this conversation now?’ she paused and looked up, waiting for the response she knew was coming. 

When she saw the tentative nod, she smiled softly up at Patsy and adjusted herself slightly so she could place a gentle kiss on the her cheek. She leaned back and looked deeply into those gorgeous blue eyes, which were currently filled with so much trepidation.

‘Alright then, we’ll talk about this now. I did, after all, promise you more my of dark underbelly.’ As she said the last bit, Delia ran a hand playfully over Patsy’s stomach, trying to get her to relax a bit. She was rewarded with a bashful half-smile as she felt some of the tension ease out of the redhead.

‘Thank you, Deels. I know you were enjoying just having a relaxing afternoon for once.’ 

‘What I was enjoying was being with you, and I still get to do that. Just let me think about your question for a moment, alright?’ 

Patsy nodded and Delia settled back into her chest, smiling as she felt Patsy wrap an arm comfortingly around her shoulder and place a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 

She pondered Patsy’s question. What was she most ashamed of? Mrs Thomas flashed through her mind and she felt her stomach clench in guilt and shame, the familiar wave of light nausea that accompanied her recollection of the events of last year pulsing through her body. But she knew now wasn’t the time for that story. Patsy was clearly asking so that Delia’s vulnerability could open the door for Patsy’s own. Discussing Mrs Thomas required so much explanation. And parts of it couldn’t be explained away. All _that_ story would succeed in doing was shutting Patsy down. 

No, right now she’d talk about her other great shame: her parents. It was safer ground; ground that she suspected was closer to the realm of what Patsy wanted to discuss. And it wasn’t as if there wasn’t plenty of guilt associated with that topic too. Maybe just as much, actually, though the pain of it had been numbed somewhat by the passage of time. She sighed deeply and snuggled closer into Patsy’s shoulder. 

‘I suppose I would have to say I’m most ashamed of what I did to my parents,’ she paused for a moment, considering her wording, ‘Or I suppose I should say what happened to them _because_ of me.’ 

Patsy stayed silent, simply rubbing her thumb gently on Delia’s shoulder, her other arm coming across to intertwine with Delia’s own that lay across the redhead’s stomach. 

Feeling safe and supported, Delia took a deep breath and launched into her story. She wanted Patsy to have a chance to understand _why_ she’d done what she did, so she told her everything, from her happy early childhood to the events of after the Reckoning…being beaten, the disappearance of her rebellious friends at school, her years locked away at home, her clandestine trip to the underground meeting. And finally, her decision to run away. To pack a bag and leave her village, her home, her parents. 

As she reached this pivotal point, she felt Patsy tense, and she knew what the redhead was thinking. What everyone always assumed. Delia felt the familiar wave of regret. Of anger at her younger self. That she had been so idiotic. So naïve. 

Delia shut her eyes and tried to control the paralyzing guilt coursing through her. She knew it wasn’t productive. That the voice that told her that there wasn’t any point in trying to move on from this…that it was unforgivable and that she should just give up…was one that she needed to silence. It was why she didn’t like thinking about it. Forgiving others was hard enough. But forgiving yourself? It was something that Delia had never mastered. 

She wasn’t aware of how long she had been silent until she heard Patsy’s tentative voice, sounding wary and unsure, ‘And your parents?’ 

Delia couldn’t keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice. There was just so much self-recrimination coursing through her, ‘They weren’t executed, if that’s what you’re thinking, which I suppose is something to be grateful for. They were forced to leave Wales, though, which, for them, might honestly have been worse.’ 

To her great credit, Patsy didn’t react to Delia’s harsh tone, she just kept gently rubbing her shoulder, ‘What happened?’ 

‘My mam managed to convince the Redemptionists of their loyalty. That I had just been a bad seed, but that _they_ could still be trusted. It was an impressive feat, if you think about it, but still, it wasn’t considered safe for them to be out in the community. In case they managed to foster other _hostile elements_. So they were brought to London to work in the ministry as Servants of the People.’ Her voice wobbled as she finished. It was always so hard to think about. How her impulsive decision as a fourteen year old had led to what amounted to lifelong imprisonment for her parents. 

She felt Patsy hold her a bit tighter, ‘I’m so sorry.’ The redhead leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead, ‘It sounds like you didn’t have any way of knowing what would happen.’ 

‘But I _should_ have. I should have at least suspected that me leaving wouldn’t go unpunished.’ 

‘How _could_ you have, Deels? It sounds like you’d lived a fairly sheltered life up to that point.’ 

Delia shook her head and mumbled, ‘They should have told me. _She_ should have told me. My mam spent my whole life warning me about every single thing that could happen to _me_ , but she never told me something could happen to _them_. If I had known…’ Delia trailed off, closing her eyes. Because that was the rub, wasn’t it? If she had known…what then? Would she have stayed? Married some man of the council’s choosing? Played happy families? Her heart constricted at the very thought. 

No, deep down she had to admit she was grateful that she hadn’t known. That she had been spared having to make the decision to leave with a full understanding of the consequences. And that truth nudged up against her greatest fear: that even knowing her parents would be arrested, maybe killed, she might have left anyway. She might have put her own future, her own happiness, above theirs. And it was hard…knowing, deep down, that she would probably have been that selfish. That she would have put the abstract idea of a cause that needed to be fought for above the safety of actual people in her life. Because she knew who she had been then. Who, apparently, she still was as recently as last year. 

She shook her head, finding herself once again in the impossible position of not only needing to forgive herself for what she had done, but also for what she _might_ have done. She felt weak and hopeless as she muttered into Patsy’s chest, ‘They were ripped from everything they love, Pats. They could have died.’ 

Patsy cupped Delia’s chin and pulled her up gently so their eyes could meet, ‘But they didn’t. They’re resourceful and tenacious, like their daughter, and they found a way to survive. And it sounds like you’ve even found a way to be in contact, so they’ve been able to reconnect with _something_ they love.’

Delia furrowed her brow, ‘How do you know that?’ 

Patsy smiled softly, ‘You know what happened to them. You must know how unusual that is. How lucky you are.’ 

Delia looked down at her hands and nodded, ‘I know. And I actually have the Bloc to thank for it. Though it wasn’t altruistic on their part. Apparently, by the time I became a spy, my mam had worked her way up to serving an administrative role in the department responsible for various types of work placements. The Bloc found out and contacted her, hoping to leverage her relationship with me into an invitation to the anniversary gala where I was supposed to seduce Mrs Williams.’ 

‘I take it their leveraging attempts were successful.’ 

Delia shifted so that she was sitting next to Patsy, facing her, ‘Well, their methods were quite blunt-force, actually. They made me sit at a communication station and ask her, point-blank. It was one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever done. We were on a timed connection, so I had barely any opportunity for pleasantries or catching up, and it was so _hard_. Having to look at someone who I’d betrayed so thoroughly and tell her that I needed something from her. Something that might put her in danger. For a cause she didn’t believe in. To this day, I’m surprised she agreed. I think some of it was the shock and relief of seeing me on a screen after three years. She told me she’d thought I was dead, so simply knowing I wasn’t probably robbed her of her faculties for a bit.’ 

Delia shook her head, remembering the look of surprise in her mam’s eyes when she’d popped up on the screen. How the jubilation had faded when Delia had asked about the invitation. When it had become clear that, even after all that Delia had done, all that she’d put her parents through, this contact was little more than a business transaction. She’d _hated_ having to make that ask. Phyllis had assured her that there was no other way to get into the gala on such short notice, but still, it had felt so _dirty_. 

‘I tried to make it so that the next time I contacted her it could just be to chat, but it was simply too dangerous. I didn’t want to put her at risk. The most I could do was make sure that the next contact, when we needed placements for Barbara and I in the compound the first time, was untimed. Winifred managed to make a secure connection, so I really had a chance to check in. I could tell her about my life since I’d left home—my time with the Bissettes, how I’d become a spy, how nice it felt to have a purpose…to feel like I was making a difference.’ 

‘You told a Redemptionist administrator about you life as a spy for the Bloc?’ Patsy tried to make her tone lightly curious, but it was clear she was profoundly sceptical. 

‘She’s not a _Redemptionist administrator_ , Pats, she’s my mam,’ Delia saw Patsy look down at her lap, obviously uncertain how to respond. She sighed and reached out to take Patsy’s hand, ‘But no, I didn’t tell her any details about my life as a spy. To protect her, if nothing else. I simply told her about how I’d become one. That I’d been found and recruited. It was obvious she _hated_ that I’d become a spy, but not as much as she hated what I’d been doing with the Bissettes. I can still hear the consternation in her voice when she said, _Really cariad, you had to choose the most dangerous possible path?_ ’

Patsy gave her hand a little squeeze, ‘Well, she has a point there.’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘I don’t go _seeking out_ dangerous vocations. They just seem to keep finding me. She did seem to like that I was a member of a team. Said that having other people around would keep me from doing anything rash.’ Delia paused, her brow furrowing as she thought about how false that assumption had proved. The extent to which she seemed to consistently let her mam down. She shook her head, ‘She was able to tell me a bit about their life as Servants of the People too. I know she sugar-coated it to protect me, but even then it was clear they’re both miserable. Especially my tad, who’s been put on hard labour. They haven’t seen the countryside in over a decade. The food is shite, they live in dormitories where they have almost no privacy, they never get to do anything but work and sleep. I’d hoped they’d maybe met some new people, but it’s clear my mam considers the other SOPs too traitorous to be worth befriending.’ 

‘Even after all she’s been through as an SOP herself, she still thinks that?’ 

Delia nodded, ‘Apparently so. She told me none of them were _worth her time_ ,’ she looked up at the sky through the canopy, remembering the look of sheer disdain in her mother’s eyes. Thinking about how if felt when that look was directed at her, ‘We talked for over an hour. We’d never really just _talked_ like that before, and it was nice to be able to really check in with her. It was the warmest and most open I’ve ever seen her,’ she paused and sighed, ‘It almost made me forget what she could be like. How she could get. But I got a harsh reminder the last time we spoke, just before our most recent mission to the compound. It started out fairly smoothly, but as soon as it became clear that it wasn’t a social call, she immediately became tense. When I mentioned we wanted to get into the compound again, she just…lost it. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her it wasn’t me going in. For a solid ten minutes she railed at me about how dangerous it was, about how all she ever wanted to do was keep me safe and protected but I only ever contacted her when I wanted to put myself in danger. About how they’d sacrificed so much for me, and all I seemed to want to do was get myself killed. About how they wouldn’t even be trapped in London if they hadn’t been trying to protect me. Every word felt like a stab in the gut.’ 

She felt Patsy squeeze her hand, but otherwise she just sat silently, listening intently. 

‘Finally, I was able to get a word in edgewise to tell her we needed Barbara and Phyllis to go in. She calmed a little then, said she would get them placements, but then, before she disconnected she told me that she just couldn’t do it anymore. The constant worrying was too much. She said that she didn’t want to speak to me as long as I was a spy. That I wasn’t to contact her again. And with that she just…hung up.’ 

Delia hung her head, the empty feeling that call had left her with coursing through her once again. 

‘It’s just hard…to know she’s out there worrying about me and blaming me and hating me. And to know that I deserve every single ounce of it. That I’m responsible for making them miserable. And while a part of me is glad that I’ve been able to talk to her, another part of me thinks it would be easier if I’d never found out what happened to them or even if they’d just been…’ she trailed off, aware enough to know that was a thought she shouldn’t voice. She looked down at the ground, not having the strength to meet Patsy’s gaze, and mumbled, ‘I just hate carrying the burden of knowing that every moment they’re suffering…because of me.’ 

She heard a rustling of movement and the next thing she knew she was completely enveloped in Patsy’s arms, her head tucked under the redhead’s chin. She nuzzled down into Patsy’s shoulder, feeling hot tears spring to her eyes. She concentrated on breathing deeply. They stayed like that for a while, before Patsy’s voice, calm but slightly tentative, cut through the air. 

‘It doesn’t sound like your mother hates you, Deels. It sounds like she loves you more than she knows how to handle.’ 

‘How _could_ she? She hates every single part of who I am, of what I fight for.’

‘Because that’s what mothers do. They love their daughters…even when they don’t necessarily love who they become.’ 

‘But I don’t deserve any of her love. I didn’t love them enough to stay, and now they’re trapped forever in a kind of purgatory. I made that choice, and part of me wishes that she _would_ just stop caring. That she would just abandon me like I abandoned them.’ 

Delia was surprised to hear Patsy chuckle softly, ‘I don’t think caring is something you can just _turn off_ like that.’ She felt Patsy place a gentle kiss on her head. The redhead simply held her for a while. When she spoke again, her words were slow and measured, ‘Deels, it sounds to me like your mother’s a strong woman who’s capable of advocating for herself. I can’t imagine her choice not to tell you about the risk to them wasn’t a calculated decision. There’s a _reason_ she didn’t tell you what could happen to them, and you can’t blame yourself for not knowing what she didn’t want you to know.’ 

Delia pulled back and stared at Patsy for a moment, considering her words. The redhead smiled at her softly, ‘I realize it feels like it’s all your fault, but just like you didn’t _trap_ Winifred in her life as a spy, you’re not solely responsible for your parents’ current position. You made your choices and they made theirs. And now all three of you have to live with the ramifications of those decisions. And that _is_ hard. But even saying they wouldn’t be trapped in London if they hadn’t been protecting you isn’t _blaming_ you. It’s your mother unleashing her fears and frustrations…maybe somewhat with you, but also with the situation, with her own choices...in a moment of anger. And I understand the inclination to focus on that, but we don’t do ourselves any favours when we carry words said in moments of anger close to our hearts.’ She reached up and put a hand softly on Delia’s cheek, ‘Forgiving ourselves is hard enough without carrying more of a burden than we have to.’ 

Delia’s mind raced, trying to process all of what Patsy had said. She’d honestly never considered that her parent’s predicament wasn’t entirely her fault. That it wasn’t something her parents had every right to blame her for…to hate her for. But was that too simple? Or was trying to find absolution too indulgent? She shook her head, ‘I’m still the one who left.’ 

‘You just told me that one of the reasons you ran away was because you didn’t want to see the fear in your mother’s eyes when you came back from actions. That at the time you thought you were sparing her some pain. And I know that now, looking back, you can see how foolish that was, and it’s tempting to blame yourself for that lack of foresight. But Deels, you were _fourteen_ and angry and scared. You can’t keep condemning that girl. She did something that ended up hurting people, but she was only trying to survive, and her heart was in the right place.’ 

Delia searched Patsy’s eyes for a moment, seeing nothing there but sincerity, before burrowing her head into the redhead’s shoulder, her voice cracking, ‘It’s just so _hard_.’ 

Patsy gently stroked her hair, ‘I know. It’s never going to be easy. There’s no magical way to let go of the guilt. But you don’t have to go out of your way to make it harder. Does that make sense?’

Delia gripped tightly to Patsy as she nodded into her chest, trying to let Patsy’s words in past the walls of her own self-doubt. For several long moments, they simply sat there holding each other. Listening to the breeze rustle through the canopy of the poplar, Delia thought about forgiving her younger self, wincing internally as the harsh, well-practiced voice of retribution bit back. For the first time she tried pushing back against it; telling it that she had been young, that her parents had had agency too. The voice remained unconvinced, but there was the slightest thaw. She allowed herself a small smile. It was going to be a long journey, but for the first time, she felt a glimmer of hope. 

She was so caught up in her own thoughts she jumped slightly when Patsy started talking. 

‘Thank you for telling me about them, Deels. I know it’s not easy to talk about the things we’re not proud of,’ she released her grip on Delia slightly, leaning back so she could look into her eyes. 

Delia smiled back at her and nodded, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on Patsy’s lips. When she pulled away, she saw Patsy close her eyes and take a deep, slightly shaky breath. When she opened them, her eyes were filled with nervousness, a trepidation that was echoed in the slight warbling of her voice. 

‘I know it’s hard. That sometimes it feels insurmountable, and like… _other_ outcomes might have been easier. But I want to assure you, no matter what happens, no matter how hard it feels, having her be here…it’s…it’s better than having her be dead.’ 

Delia felt her heart clench. She looked deeply into Patsy’s eyes, an understanding flowing between them. She silently thanked Abigail for her training as she shifted her focus to centre Patsy. Hiding her surprise and curiosity, Delia simply nodded and brought her hand to Patsy’s cheek, caressing it gently, ‘Tell me about her, Pats. She must have been pretty remarkable, to have raised someone as amazing as you.’ 

Patsy smiled sadly and turned her head to lightly kiss Delia’s hand. She gestured for Delia to lean back on the pack. Delia obliged and, once she was situated, Patsy almost immediately nestled into her, head on Delia’s shoulder, arm wrapped around her waist. Delia held her tightly. 

Patsy lay quietly for a moment before finally releasing a sigh and beginning. Her voice was soft, but determined. 

‘My mother _was_ a truly remarkable woman. Like my father, her background was in medical research, except while he’d transitioned to the business side of things, she stayed in the lab. I was too young to know exactly what her research entailed, but I know that she’d been instrumental in discovering cures and vaccines for several diseases. It was largely her esteemed status in the field that allowed her to stay in the lab when they started ‘phasing out’ women’s involvement in scientific fields. But she lost some of her most competent and experienced assistants, which she was absolutely _livid_ about.’ 

Patsy’s tone shifted slightly, becoming just a bit harder, ‘Really, I suppose she was livid about almost everything that was happening in the lead-up to the Reckoning. And as things got worse, she started to get more and more vehement in her expressions of her ideals. Never in company, and rarely with my father, but when it was just her, Hope and I, she would rail against what she called the ‘backward views’ of those coming into power. At times, she seemed almost crazed.’ 

She paused, taking a deep breath, ‘I never did discover where she learned her skills with weaponry, but she was remarkably adept with a whole host of weapons. Fairly early on, she began taking us aside to teach us how to use them. And while Hope took to it with exuberance, I was always more…uncertain. I suppose I was always a bit more like my father that way. More measured in my responses. Wary of rocking the boat; wanting to just blend in, stay safe. I _know_ she was disappointed in me, though she did her best to hide it. When Hope would get angry at my reticence, my mother would always say _Hope, we all bring different skills. You have passion, energy. Your sister cares just as much, she’s just approaching it from a different perspective. She has the gift of patience_.’ 

Delia smiled, ‘That makes your name particularly fitting.’ 

‘I like to think so,’ Patsy paused for a long moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, ‘I loved spending time with my mother and sister, but still, the vehemence of their dedication put pressure on the whole family. I could tell her views were straining her relationship with my father, though they tried their best to hide it from us. My mother, I think, put in the effort because she wanted us to feel safe. My father simply didn’t believe in showing any kind of emotion. Revealing the cracks in their relationship would have been tantamount to an indefensible show of weakness. But all clearly wasn’t well.’ 

Her voice took on a far-off quality, ‘I remember once, when my father was on a business trip, I snuck into their room to play with my mother’s makeup. You know, typical pre-teen girl stuff. Hope came along and was fiddling around in our father’s bureau when she found this small bottle of cologne and sprayed it on herself and put on one of his fancy hats and a bowtie. I had on a full face of make-up and a pair of my mother’s heels, and we were pretending we were at a fancy ball and preening and being ridiculous. My mother walked in suddenly and sniffed the air and…I don’t know how to describe it…I’d never seen her look so panicked and angry and _scared_. She started yelling about knowing better than to touch our father’s things. She came running up and took a good hard look at my face…I can still see the fear in her eyes so _vividly_. After looking me over for a moment, she whirled around and grabbed Hope, ripping off the hat and bowtie and dragging her to the shower, telling her she needed to get every bit of cologne off before our father got home. She even got rubbing alcohol and made Hope rub it all over herself, just to get rid of the smell. It was so…unnerving. To see her so disturbed by the thought of our father finding out we were in his things. I’d always thought of him as distant, but never…I don’t know… _dangerous_. I’d never even heard him raise his voice. But she seemed genuinely frightened of him.’ 

‘Did anything happen when he came back?’ 

Patsy shook her head, ‘As far as I know, he never even found out what we’d done. He returned later that night, gave us kisses and said he was tired and going to bed. Hope and I waited with bated breath, worried that he would smell the cologne and be angry with us, but he never said a word and the next morning everything seemed completely normal. I never knew if my mother was overreacting or had just hidden everything well. It’s hard to tell through the veil of the past, but she did seem to be getting a bit paranoid. I mean, even later, when it was just the two of us, my father was never scary. Just…absent.’ 

Patsy trailed off and stayed silent for long enough, that Delia wondered if she should give a little nudge. Eventually, she squeezed Patsy’s shoulder lightly and asked softly, ‘How did it get to be just the two of you, Pats? What happened?’ 

When she began talking, Patsy’s voice had the same hollow, clinical quality as it had had when she’d discussed her time in the camps, ‘We got sick. Well, the three of us did. It was several days after my father had returned, and Hope and I started feeling feverish, so he tucked us into bed. I have a few foggy memories of worried voices and being carried somewhere, but the next thing I remember fully was waking up in some kind of hospital, hooked up to a million monitors. A nurse with an incredibly kind face was smiling at me. She said _It’s good to see you feeling better_ and I remember being so incredibly confused. I said _I was sick?_ and she just smiled and said, _Yes, but thank the Lord, you’re all better now_ and left. Shortly afterwards, there was a commotion in the hallway and I heard my father yell _She’s awake?_ He came bursting in the door, his face so full of hope. I’d never seen him look at me that way before, with just unrestrained joy. Later, in the years before he sent me to the camps, when he pushed me away, I can’t even count the number of times I closed my eyes and brought up the memory of his face in that moment, so full of warmth and caring. It was proof that he’d loved me once.’ 

She drew in a deep sigh, her tone defeated, ‘Even then, though, it was fleeting. He left almost immediately, bursting out into the hallway yelling _If she’s getting better, why isn’t Claire?_ ’ 

‘Claire was your mother?’ 

Patsy nodded, ‘Apparently she and Hope were also sick, and they weren’t improving. Later that day, a man appeared in my room who introduced himself as a doctor. He calmly explained to me that my father had given them permission to do some tests on me, to try to figure out why I had gotten better, but my mother and sister were still sick. He said they needed to figure out what was special about me. I wanted to do absolutely whatever I could to help. They wheeled me into a room where they started doing all kinds of tests. I remember he told me that some of the tests would hurt a lot. He said that they had a limited supply of the medicine to take away the pain, and that right now my mother and sister needed it. He asked if I wanted to use the medicine, to take it from my mother and sister, or if I wanted to be brave and bear with the pain. Of course I chose the latter. I didn’t want them to be sick _and_ in pain. I had no idea what he was doing at the time, but it was excruciating. Eventually, the pain got to be so much that I couldn’t stop myself from flailing on the table, so they strapped me down. And the entire time he just hummed that song, the Peter Frampton one from the dance, as if doing this was just another run-of-the-mill day for him. I kept asking for my father, but the doctor said that I shouldn’t want to take my father away from my mother and sister’s bedsides. Much later, I found a way to ask Chummy about the procedures and she guessed that he did both a bone marrow biopsy on my lower back and a surgical bone biopsy on my hip. All without anaesthetic. I was twelve.’ 

Delia had to stifle a gasp, to hold back the tears that wanted to come out as she heard the pain in Patsy’s voice. She gripped the redhead tighter, knowing that the story wasn’t finished, ‘I’m so sorry, Pats. That must have been agonizing.’ 

Patsy nestled down deeper into Delia’s shoulder, ‘And it didn’t even do any good. I don’t know if they ever found anything from their tests, but I know now that if they did, it wasn’t in time to make any difference. I just lay in the hospital for two days, alone and hurting. Occasionally, they would come in to draw blood. At one point they said that they needed to do the painful tests again, but I screamed and made such a fuss that eventually they sedated me. I don’t know if they took any more bone samples, but I do have some scars on my legs that I have no memory of getting.’

Delia wondered if Patsy ever questioned where the sedative had suddenly come from. Delia herself knew Dr Galton well enough to know the answer, but if Patsy didn’t…well, that seemed like something it might be better not to know. 

‘On the third day, I was told that my mother was asking for me, and I was _so_ excited to see her. I knew she was ill, but still, she was my mother. I wanted to be held by her. To tell her about how brave I’d been in helping her. But then they wheeled me into her room…’ she trailed off. Her voice, when it returned, was so soft Delia could barely hear it, ‘It was horrible. She lay wheezing on a bed, her entire body covered in ribbons of black, her eyes bloodshot. My father was nowhere in sight. I wanted to run away, but she held out her hand to me and I…I couldn’t just leave her alone. So I sat there with her by myself. I don’t know how long it took her to die, but it felt like hours. The entire time she kept mumbling about how she was sorry, about how she hurt, about how people were going to get into her lab. All I could do was hold her hand and try not to cry. I was the only one there for her, and I needed her to think that I was strong. But really, I wasn’t strong at all. I was panicked and scared…and all alone.’ 

A wave of realization washed over Delia. Patsy’s reactions to Gillian suddenly made complete sense. Her horror at seeing the girl’s mother get bitten. Her staunch refusal to let Gillian be alone at her parent’s bedside. Her fierce protectiveness. Delia felt her stomach drop as she thought about just how many memories that night must have brought back, _on top_ of Patsy’s fears about being a monster. Her heart ached for the woman in her arms.

‘You _were_ strong, Pats. You stayed with her the entire time. Being strong doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you don’t let that fear control you.’ 

Patsy shook her head, ‘You don’t understand. Right before the end she turned to me with wild eyes and told me that I needed to go to Hope. That she knew my father wouldn’t be there, and I couldn’t let Hope be alone. She said I needed to relay the message to Hope that she was sorry that all of this was happening. She made me _promise_ that I would go to my sister. That I would be by her side. I swore to her that I would, and for just a moment, she looked peaceful before she was just…gone. I don’t know what I expected, maybe crash carts or yelling doctors, but no one came. I had no idea what to do, so I just sat there staring at her for I don’t know how long. Eventually I went out into the hallway and told a nurse my mother had died. She said she was sorry and gave me a kind smile and took me to my room. I asked about Hope and was told she wasn’t doing well. The nurse asked if I wanted to go to her and I just…I couldn’t. I felt so completely empty. I hauled myself up into the hospital bed and just lay there staring at the ceiling. I didn’t even have the energy to cry. The next day the nurse came back and told me that Hope was close to the end, and that if I wanted to see her, I needed to go now,’ Patsy’s voice became high and strained as she physically curled up into a foetal position, her hands grabbing onto Delia’s shirt with a vice-like grip, ‘And I didn’t. I just stayed in my bed, pretending nothing was happening. Pretending that there was more time. Several hours later, someone came to tell me that Hope had died. Alone. My sister died scared and in pain and _alone_ because I couldn’t make myself be there for her. Because I wasn’t strong enough.’ 

Delia held Patsy fiercely, feeling her heart break for the woman in her arms, ‘Pats, you were twelve years old. You were a child who’d just been through the trauma of extreme pain and losing your mother. And then you were supposed to go sit with your sister? Even for someone as brave and strong as you, that’s too much to ask,’ She strove to keep the anger and judgement from her voice as she asked what she felt was the obvious question, ‘Where was your father?’ 

‘He came to pick me up shortly after Hope died. He’d been working non-stop in the lab ever since I’d first recovered, trying to find some kind of cure. He looked so dishevelled and grief-stricken. He hadn’t slept in days. He simply sat by my bed for a long while, until I finally drifted to sleep. When I woke up again, I was back in my own bed, in our house, with a nurse sitting by my bedside. She explained that my father had had to go away on a trip, but that he would be back soon. And he did come back from time to time, but he was never really _there_. I think the pain of losing my mother was just too much for him, and I served as a constant reminder. Every time he’d look at me, I could see it in his eyes how much it bothered him…that he hadn’t been able to figure out how I’d survived. That none of the tests on me had yielded a cure. That I had lived instead of her.’ 

Apparently talking about her father had calmed her slightly, and the clinical tone had returned to Patsy’s voice, ‘So my life became one of nannies and tutors. By the time the camps opened, I wasn’t really surprised when I learned I was being sent there. Especially after he’d found me practicing with a quarterstaff in our training room one day. I often went there, just to feel closer to them, but I got the sense it was the first he’d heard about our little training sessions. I think it put the seed in his head that I could probably use the re-training anyway. And to be honest, at that point I didn’t care. The emptiness that had come in after my mother died had solidly taken up residence, and I just couldn’t bring myself to feel much of anything about leaving my family home. The only things I brought with me were an old compact of my mother’s and an enamel pin of a shark that Hope always wore on her lapel. I still have them, though the mirror in the compact broke in the camp. I keep them as reminders of a time when I wasn’t strong enough,’ her voice cracked, ‘When I broke a promise to carry out my mother’s dying wish. When I left my sister to die alone. So that I never forget that other people get hurt when I can’t be strong.’ 

Delia held Patsy close and rocked her back and forth as she felt the heat of Patsy’s tears seep through her shirt. Even with all of her experience and training, she felt very much out of her depth as she considered exactly how much Patsy had endured. She took a deep breath, ‘Pats, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’re strong now, and you were strong then. So incredibly strong. It sounds like your mother loved you _very_ much, and I’m sure she would have understood. She didn’t know what you’d been through when she asked. She didn’t know how much pain you were in, what had been done to you. If she had known all of that, Pats, she would have understood. She wouldn’t have blamed you. You were so incredibly brave to agree to the tests and so brave to sit with your mother, and you have _nothing_ to be ashamed of.’ 

She felt Patsy burrow into her further and give a little whimper. She hugged the redhead close and continued to whisper assurances as Patsy clung tightly to her. 

Once she was certain Patsy didn’t have anything else to share for the moment, she focused on trying to organize the thoughts whirring through her head. There were several parts of Patsy’s story that had been genuine surprises, including the confirmation that her mother had died. She knew that she desperately needed to talk to Phyllis. To let her know just how in the dark they had been about that. 

But every time she tried to think about the ramifications of that discovery, her mind kept circling back to the woman in her arms. Delia was overwhelmed by just how much Patsy had been through. How strong she had been to survive. But Patsy hadn’t just been tortured and forced to sit alone and watch her mother die. To carry the guilt of an impossible promise that no child should have been forced to make. She’d also been fundamentally betrayed by the very person who was supposed to protect her. It was a betrayal that was almost unfathomable, and one that rendered Plan B completely untenable. And the worst part was that even though the pain and heartbreak she had suffered had been horrifyingly real, Patsy had no idea what had actually happened.


	22. Barbara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Summer, man. A time of hot days, plentiful adventures, and not a whole lot of time to write. I know that it's not ideal for a story like this to take so long between updates, and I want to say how much I appreciate your sticking with this story. This chapter was a challenging one to write, and I hope that you enjoy!! :)

Barbara looked up at the tip of the welding iron, watching transfixed as it shook unsteadily from side to side. She followed the line of the iron down to her hand, observing the muscles of her wrist spasm and twitch. With a deep sigh, she switched the iron off and pushed off her welding helmet, staring forlornly at the undercarriage of the car. What was wrong with her?

Grateful, for once, to be lying on her back under a car, she pulled off her glove and brought her right hand up in front of her face, watching it quiver. She reached up and held it with her left, noticing that it too was trembling of its own accord. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No. She couldn’t let this happen. Barbara knew that she could be a bit clumsy at times, tripping over things or occasionally send things clattering to the ground, but when she _really_ needed them she’d always been able to rely on the steadiness of her hands. But now it seemed that even the parts of herself that she’d always considered the most secure were failing her. 

She thought back to the attack on the camp. To the hordes of approaching Reapers, which she’d looked at with her usual calm detachment. Right up until the fence defences had been breached, and she’d prepared to engage in close combat. That’s when she’d realized that something was…off. It was nothing catastrophic; nothing that would ultimately put her life in danger. It was simply that, while her body was as primed and ready as ever, her mind was just a tiny bit slower than normal. It tripped and stuttered over reactions that were normally seamless. The longer she fought, the thicker the fog descended, slowing her response times, increasing her doubts, and making the problem worse. 

She’d never admit it to her team, but she’d been incredibly grateful when Trixie had appeared. Just knowing there was someone else there who was capable of fighting had helped to take the edge off. But then, once the insect Reapers had been beaten back, she felt the shame seep in. And the worry. The small explosives and electric zones they’d installed near that part of the perimeter fence had taken care of almost half of the Reapers. She should have been able to dispatch the rest of them easily. But she hadn’t. Her hands had been steady, but her brain had been too slow. And now her hands were failing her too. 

Barbara took a deep, calming breath. No. Her hands weren’t going to fail her. She wasn’t going to let them. She’d worked out a strategy for tackling the problem of her response times, and she’d figure out a plan for this too. 

She allowed herself a small smile as she thought about how ingenuitive she’d been in addressing the issue of her impaired fighting skills. How quickly she’d thought on her feet. 

In the days after the attack, she’d been feeling so worried. So distant. So disconnected from everything. She should have known that the injuries she’d sustained at the compound would have long-term consequences. Her brain had, after all, suffered not insignificant trauma. But somehow she’d never considered that it would affect her ability to fight. And if she couldn’t fight, well then, how useful would she be to the team? 

She’d considered telling someone about the issue, but when Phyllis had taken her aside the day after the attack to ask if she was alright, Barbara could see that her team leader had her hands full getting information about the attack and implementing a response, so she’d said everything was fine. Delia, meanwhile, already seemed overwhelmed trying to support a bafflingly prickly Patsy. Barbara didn’t want to be a burden, so she’d been left to marinate in her own worries. 

But then Patsy suggested Barbara accompany her to take care of the final three insect Reapers, and an opportunity presented itself. Barbara had gotten a glimpse of Patsy’s skills on the day of the attack when the van had arrived at the cave, supposedly to assist Patsy and Delia in fighting the fourth chopper of Reapers, though as it turned out, the duo hadn’t needed any help. She’d seen the redhead twirling a Reaper by its antennae and bashing it into a rock. Barbara had felt the slightest twinge of jealousy that she hadn’t thought of that particular move, only to be completely distracted when Patsy whirled around, pulling a crossbow off of her back, and sending an almost miraculous shot flying into the cockpit of the approaching chopper. Barbara had never seen that combination of speed and skill before. It was clear that Patsy had received intensive training… and that she was intimidatingly skilled. 

Barbara had noticed that Patsy had been worryingly vacant after the fighting, and that Delia had been terrified for her, but she had been too preoccupied loading refugees into the van, and later taking care of Gillian, to really focus on Patsy’s reactions. Later that night, however, as they were working to fix the shower, Delia told her about how Patsy had simply _disappeared_ while fighting, and that’s when Barbara knew without a doubt that Patsy had been a Redeemer. She’d seen that before…looking into someone’s eyes during intense fighting and seeing only emptiness. It only happened with Redeemers. She wasn’t sure if the rest of the team had ever seen it before; Barbara pushed the limits of the average Redeemer more than most. And, as the tales of Patsy’s exploits at the cave spread through camp, it quickly became clear that Patsy was far from average. 

Inspiration hadn’t truly struck, however, until she’d watched Delia and Patsy’s argument after the all-camp meeting. The look of confusion and shame and fear on Patsy’s face as she’d realized she didn’t know how Delia had gotten cut sent a bolt of realization shooting through Barbara. Patsy hated that she couldn’t remember. She was ashamed. She _feared_ herself. In that instant, the seed of an idea germinated in Barbara’s mind. Something that would help them both. She’d heard of it working before, reformed Redeemers training with a mentor to learn to re-gain control. Barbara didn’t have any experience with rehabilitation, but she did have the skills to go toe-to-toe with Patsy. And an urgent need for a sparring partner who would allow her to push her own limits. To retrain her brain. To see if she was still capable of being useful. 

So she’d asked Patsy when they were on their own. She’d done what she felt was an admirable job of making the offer sound like it was coming from a place of confidence. And their two training sessions so far had been a revelation. 

She’d been nervous at first, worried that she’d somehow end up doing more damage than good. Ultimately, she’d decided to trust her instincts, and was so pleased that they hadn’t let her down. She felt her skin prickle as she remembered how amazing it felt to be able to coax Patsy back from the encroaching emptiness. She could still feel the unadulterated pride that coursed through her as she watched the awareness come flooding back into the redhead’s eyes over and over again. And the sessions were just as useful for her. It allowed her to practise compensating for her sluggish mental reflexes, and to feel like she was beginning to slowly re-train the parts of her brain that had been injured. 

And, even though Phyllis had seemed slightly taken aback that she hadn’t been consulted beforehand, the older spy had heartily approved of the idea, which had honestly been _such_ a relief.

Barbara closed her eyes and sighed, realizing that this relief was, in fact, part of her current problem. _Why_ did she feel such a strong need to maintain Phyllis’ approval? She was an adult and they were technically a team. She should feel comfortable voicing her concerns, even if they had the potential to irritate Phyllis. It’s not as if she never vexed her team leader as it was. Most of the time, if she did something Phyllis disapproved of, she would simply be deferential and wait for her team leader’s annoyance to blow over. But this time was different. Phyllis was asking, no _telling_ , her to do something she didn’t want to do… _couldn’t_ do. But as much as she’d wanted to, Barbara hadn’t been able to stand up to her. She’d been too scared of disappointing Phyllis, and too untrained in the art of standing up for herself. 

Barbara put her forearm over her eyes, trying to shut out the rest of the world and _think_. The problem of her reflexes had been relatively simple to solve compared to the dilemma of Phyllis. 

Barbara had always had this problem…an inherent difficulty standing up to people in positions of authority, especially women. She supposed a lot of it had to do with her upbringing. Her father was a kind, hard-working, genial, and profoundly taciturn man. Her mother had been the firebrand, and while Barbara had always taken more after her father, she’d idolized her mother. 

It had been her mother who’d anticipated just how bad the situation in England would get; who’d insisted that her father apply for a transfer from Liverpool to Aberdeen. Because of her persistence, Barbara and her sister were spared the horrors of the Reckoning and the following war. 

The family were unable to avoid tragedy entirely, however, and Barbara’s mother fell ill and died just before the Reckoning, when Barbara was nine. She died peacefully, in her own bed, surrounded by her loving family, never having the chance to see the ways in which her foresight would spare her daughters. 

At the funeral, Barbara’s father said that the earth lost an angel the day her mother died. While she’d always admired her mother’s strength, after hearing those words, young Barbara came to view women who could command a room, think on their feet, and express their opinions openly with a kind of reverence. That tendency towards veneration had followed her into adulthood. 

The loss of her mother left Barbara absolutely devastated. She loved her father deeply, but without her mother’s guidance, she felt rudderless. Even as a young girl, she’d been more comfortable having guidelines within which to operate, and providing structure wasn’t one of her father’s strengths. Things had looked bleak until one day Barbara, bored and curious, had followed the mysterious sounds of clanging that always emanated from a garage down the road from their flat. There she had met Ms Hager, a woman whose blacksmithing skills were renowned in the region. From wrought iron fences to knives to intricate sculptures, there was nothing Ms Hager couldn’t bring to life from a chunk of metal. 

Barbara was entranced. Ms Hager was a strong, caring, compassionate, fiercely opinionated woman, and she helped fill the gaping chasm left in Barbara’s heart by the death of her mother. Soon she spent every free hour in Ms Hager’s garage, learning to work with metal. If she hadn’t proven to be such an adept fighter, Barbara probably would have quite happily lived her life as a blacksmith, perhaps one day teaching her own children the craft. 

But while that life wasn’t to be, Barbara’s tendency to gravitate towards strong, caring older women had been set. At the academy she’d found herself in the orbit of Mrs Jemison, then Ms Khan at the training ground, and now Phyllis. Each mentor she had chosen was worthy of her trust and admiration, including Phyllis, but still…it was so hard for her to stand up to them. The fear that they would leave her, that she would be left alone and rudderless again if she pushed too hard, had always been paralyzing. 

And it wasn’t as if she’d had a great deal of _need_ to learn how to assert herself. As she reflected, she realized that she’d been blessed to live a life where she’d been given a tremendous amount of choice. 

She remembered her father sitting her down when she was fourteen and explaining that he was being sent to work with a small church in Papua New Guinea as part of the Bloc’s Intellectual Dissemination program. He’d given her the option to come with him or to stay and finish out her time in the academy. Choosing to stay had been one of the hardest decisions of her life, but she had felt it allowed her the greatest chance to make a difference. 

She’d been granted the same opportunity when she chose her specialization the next year. By then, it had become clear that Barbara had the potential to be an astoundingly skilled fighter, and Mrs Jemison encouraged her to choose a path that would develop this aptitude. Ultimately, however, the decision was left to Barbara. 

While she’d honestly never imagined living a life filled with deceit and violence, Barbara had been able to _choose_ to go to the training grounds, to become a spy. Giving up the pastoral future she’d always envisioned…working as a blacksmith in a small village, perhaps marrying a clergyman like her father…had been hard. But her feeling of obligation and desire to make a difference, to give something back to the Bloc that had even given her the opportunity to choose, pushed her onto her current path. 

The same cycle of choice and obligation had repeated itself when Ms Khan offered her the opportunity to join Phyllis as a field agent after only a year and a half of training. She’d been terrified but excited to be trusted in that way. And to finally have a chance to be out in the world making a difference. 

She realized now that she’d taken for granted having been given the opportunity to make all of those decisions for herself. To choose her own path through life. Reflecting, she was struck by just how central of a value that was for her, that everyone be given control over their own lives. It was one of the reasons that she felt so strongly about fighting against the Redemptionists. Because they denied women agency as a matter of course. 

But now, for the first time in her young life, Barbara was in a position where she was being denied the opportunity to make a choice. And she wasn’t the only one. It was why she’d _tried_ to stand up for Delia. But now her own panic was making her question her motivations even for that. 

Part of her knew that Phyllis would hate it if she knew that she was limiting Barbara or making her do something that she was afraid of. But a part of her felt ashamed that this was even an issue. She knew that this situation shouldn’t even hold a candle to any of the decisions she’d just reflected on. Those had been profound, life-altering choices that shaped the very direction that her life would take. This was just one mission. Another of many that she’d undertaken unquestioningly over the past eight years. But she couldn’t help it. When she thought about what Phyllis was asking her to do, it _felt_ just as big. 

Barbara took a deep breath and played the conversation she’d had with Phyllis earlier that day over in her head, thinking about how she could have stood up for herself more. About when she panicked. About what she had to do as a result and the fear that it filled her with. A fear that was quite literally making her quake. 

___________________

 

Barbara had walked into her tent feeling profoundly cheerful. She’d just sent Delia off on her afternoon date with Patsy, and she felt inordinately happy that they were getting some time to themselves. Her work with Patsy had only increased her admiration for the nurse, and she personally felt that Delia had hit the jackpot with that particular relationship. She hoped that getting away from camp for a bit would allow them the opportunity to, well, enjoy themselves. 

As she walked into the tent, she was surprised to see Phyllis sitting on her camp bed scribbling on a pad of paper. She’d secretly been hoping to take the afternoon off, perhaps even to have the chance to take a nap. She didn’t mind living in the camp, but it was a lifestyle that certainly didn’t leave much time for relaxation. 

Sounding entirely too guilty, she blurted out, ‘Oh! Phyllis! I thought you were in the medical tent this afternoon.’ 

Phyllis kept her eyes on the paper, seeming to not have picked up on Barbara’s awkwardness, ‘Oh, I will be shortly. I just wanted to chat with you for a moment.’ 

‘Umm…alright.’ Barbara couldn’t help the feeling of trepidation that crept through her. Phyllis wanting to chat with her alone undoubtedly meant more mission-related machinations, and Barbara was increasingly of the opinion that there was far too much unnecessary secrecy involved in this operation. 

Phyllis finally appeared to finish her notes, and looked up at Barbara, a satisfied smile on her face, ‘The shipment of TETN arrived today. For safety, we’ve stashed it various places around camp. Evangelina was also able to obtain some lead azide for use in the detonators, which is fortuitous, as we used up all of our primary explosives in re-setting perimeter security. Jane’s going to construct a test bomb today, and we hope to set it off this evening.’

Barbara was a bit taken aback, ‘You’re going to set off a bomb in the camp?’ 

‘Of course not. We’ll set it off somewhere outside the gate.’ 

‘Won’t that attract an awful lot of attention?’ 

Phyllis shrugged, unconcerned, ‘We’ll tell people one of the perimeter protection explosives detonated unexpectedly.’ 

‘That makes sense, I suppose.’ 

Phyllis nodded in satisfaction, ‘Yes, and if all goes well with the test, Jane thinks she can construct the rest of the bombs in a day or so. We should be able to move forward with destroying the compound within the week.’ 

Barbara furrowed her brow, ‘So you’ve decided to move forward with Plan C? If we don’t ask Patsy about Plan B, it means we’re giving up on getting into the house.’ 

Phyllis sighed, ‘Yes, that is unfortunate. But things have been moving in that direction ever since we found out Nurse Mount was in an indoctrination camp. And you saw how she reacted after the attack. Plan B is something that we simply can’t ask her to do. It would be far too damaging for her. No, I’m calling off Plan B and we’re moving forward with Plan C. It shouldn’t be a long mission. If we do it right, we can be down there and back up in a day.’ 

Barbara remained sceptical, ‘Calling off Plan B is directly disobeying orders. We’re likely to be censured.’ 

‘I don’t plan on telling HQ about it. Plan B can’t happen if the compound has been destroyed, and if they suspect we had something to do with it, we can always pin blame on the Underground. I have a sneaking suspicion Evangelina’s contacts are with the Underground anyway. And ultimately, we’ll be taking out the Redemptionists’ primary bioweapons facility. I’m sure HQ won’t be too terribly bothered by the slight change in plans.’

Barbara had a hard time believing things could really be that simple, ‘Won’t the Redemptionists retaliate? I can’t imagine they’ll simply allow us to destroy the facility without striking back in some way.’ 

Phyllis made a dismissive noise, ‘After the attack on this camp? No. I don’t think they would dare escalate after we respond to an attack on civilians with an attack on a military compound. A bioweapons facility in exchange for an unprovoked bioweapons attack seems fitting.’ As she spoke, Phyllis’ voice took on an unquestionable bitterness. 

Barbara felt a pang of disquiet upon hearing the emotion seep into Phyllis’ tone. In their eight years together, Phyllis’ defining trait had been a love of structure, of rules. When they’d decided to stop updating HQ about Patsy’s past and reactions, Barbara had attributed it to Phyllis’ mistrust of Ursula. But scrapping Plan B without even asking Patsy wasn’t just keeping things from an untrustworthy superior, it was ignoring the sentiment behind the orders they’d received. 

Phyllis had spent so many years rationally carrying out orders that it was hard for Barbara to even imagine it, but it seemed as if her team leader might be allowing her emotions to affect her decision-making. Barbara considered her words carefully before replying, ‘I can see the poetic justice there, but…well…it seems like if HQ wanted the compound destroyed, that’s something they could order. It might be of more value to them to have the Redemptionists bioweapons facility be so far north. I mean, they’re just going to re-build it. What if they build their new one in…I don’t know…Bournemouth? Then what would we do?’ 

‘Then HQ would send spies to Bournemouth,’ Phyllis’ tone shifted to become just the slightest bit harder, and Barbara could tell she was becoming irritated, ‘It’s not as if there aren’t Redemptionist facilities all over. That facility needs to be destroyed. It’s done enough damage.’

‘But they’ll still have the formulas.’ 

‘That’s a problem we can address later. Re-building a facility capable of that kind of research and production takes time. It’ll buy us a few years at least. A few years when these new Reapers _won’t_ be out terrorizing innocent civilians.’ 

‘I suppose that makes sense, but if we could get Patsy on board, we might be able to destroy the compound _and_ get the formulas. I mean, I thought the whole point of us being here so long was to wait for the right moment to talk to Patsy. We could still do that.’ 

Phyllis shook her head, ‘The _point_ of us being here so long was to gather information about Nurse Mount so that we could ask for her assistance in the most effective way possible. But even without knowing what exactly Delia has learned, what we’ve discovered changes that. There were essential things HQ didn’t know, false assumptions they were making when they formulated Plan B. We don’t need to convince Nurse Mount to help us; I’m honestly not sure that she even _could_ , given her history. We need to protect her…from the Redemptionists and from HQ. They wouldn’t care about the emotional toll the mission would take on her. And they can’t know about how close she and Delia have become. Ursula has already made it clear that HQ would simply try to use their relationship to their advantage.’

‘So we’re just going to carry out Plan C and leave Patsy here?’ Barbara wondered how Delia would feel about that. 

Phyllis sighed, ‘Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. During my check-in this morning, Ursula informed me that the Redemptionists recently commenced efforts to locate Nurse Mount. Given that it’s imperative for her safety that that _not_ happen, we need to get her out of Camp Poplar and up into the safety of the Bloc.’ 

Barbara felt a sense of dread seep through her. She knew as well as anyone what Patsy’s strong reaction to Dr Galton’s song likely meant. That, combined with her past as a Redeemer, didn’t paint the prettiest picture, but still, Plan B had seemed plausible because they would still have the element of surprise. And because Patsy herself would tell them how feasible it was. But if the Redemptionists were _looking_ for her? Well, that changed things significantly. 

‘Does HQ think they’re close to locating her?’ 

Phyllis shook her head, ‘She hid herself too well. It took us ages to find her, and she _works_ for us. However, if they really were recording their attack, it’s only a matter of time before they put the pieces together. We need to get Nurse Mount up into the Bloc as quickly as possible. Tomorrow I’m going to tell Julienne that this is the optimal time for Nurse Mount to be sent on leave. A nice long holiday up in the Bloc should give us sufficient time to sort everything.’

‘Surely we have to tell Patsy what’s going on?’ 

‘We will…once the compound has been destroyed. She ran, without any backup, to fight an entire chopper-load of Reapers out in the open. I don’t need her to think she needs to play the hero here. We’re going to keep her safe while we eliminate the imminent threat those new Reapers pose.’ 

Barbara remained uncertain. After working with Patsy over these last few days, she suspected that Phyllis wasn’t giving the nurse enough credit. Patsy may have been scarred by her past as a Redeemer, but she was still incredibly strong, both physically and mentally. And perfectly capable of understanding that this was a mission she’d be safer not participating in. She might even be able to give them information that would help Plan C be a success. Barbara was personally of the opinion that, especially given her past, Patsy should probably know the Redemptionists were looking for her. 

Though she supposed it _was_ a particularly bad time for Patsy to be dealing with all of this. She seemed haunted by the events of the attack, and they had just started working on maintaining control while fighting. Having to consider all of the ramifications of Plan B and knowing she was being looked for was a lot to put on the redhead’s shoulders at the current moment, especially with the compound still intact. Perhaps it was best if she could simply continue to work through the attack in the safety of the Bloc. And anyway, Barbara had always felt uncomfortable with just how much Plan B required of Patsy. 

No, abandoning Plan B made sense, and they could talk with Patsy once the compound was dealt with. Plan C also provided the relief of allowing the Quartet to get back to functioning normally…the four of them working together, on the same page, to carry out a concrete mission in a defined timeframe. The very thought of it filled Barbara with a sense of comfort. 

‘Alright then, so we get Patsy out, and commence Plan C. I’m assuming Delia will arm the explosives on-site and then sneak them in? She obviously knows how to get in undetected, given how she rescued us.’ 

Phyllis’ expression shifted, and she looked a bit pained, ‘Actually, Delia’s not going to be coming with us on this mission. Jane will accompany us to arm the explosives and then, with the help of one of Evangelina’s contacts who’s undercover in the compound, you’ll sneak in and place them.’ 

Barbara was entirely unprepared for how her body reacted to Phyllis’ words.  
She was struck by a combination of nausea and light-headedness that she’d never quite experienced before; her heart pumped so arrhythmically that for a moment she was convinced she was having a heart attack. Her brain whirred, trying to interpret what was happening, but it was as if a hidden, unknowable part of her was panicking so completely it couldn’t even begin to communicate the cause of its distress. 

The rational part of her brain latched onto the one thing she could think of that could be causing this response. 

She was going to have to go back into the compound. 

The wave of dread that surged through her with that thought all but confirmed her hunch. Her brain felt fuzzy as it desperately attempted to compensate for what felt like her body completely shutting down. She clenched her fists only to find that her hands were clammy, and she numbly realized that she had broken out into a cold sweat. 

The entire experience was so entirely foreign that Barbara was at a complete loss as to what to do. Her entire life she’d just kind of…rolled with the punches. But now, now she was faced with a challenge that was altogether new. She closed her eyes, determined to adapt to this new reality. Realizing she’d been silent for perhaps too long, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. 

‘Delia’s not coming with us?’ 

Phyllis shook her head, looking sad but resolute, ‘When Nurse Mount goes on leave, I’m going to have Delia sent on leave with her, ostensibly as protection. She’s long overdue, and we can tell her this mission has been permanently put on hold. It’ll be framed as a side mission.’ 

Barbara’s mind was still foggy, ‘But Delia’s the one who works with explosives.’ 

‘Jane is more than capable of arming the explosives. She even has some experience with old and potentially degraded lead azide, which is ideal because I don’t think Delia’s ever worked with it before, and it’s highly unstable.’ 

Slowly, Barbara’s brain started chugging into action again. She needed to think her way out of this. Her mind latched onto a detail, ‘Who is this undercover contact of Evangelina’s? How do we know we can trust them?’

Phyllis sighed, ‘Sadly, we don’t…and I suspect they’re with the Underground. But ultimately, we have to trust that they want to neutralize the threat of these new Reapers as much as we do. We’ll just have to be certain that the compound is empty before the explosives are detonated. And _especially_ that agents Miller, Lee and Jesmond have gotten out safely. You know as well as I do that the Underground can occasionally be…less than thorough…when it comes to ensuring no lives are lost.’ 

‘But Delia already knows a way in. And she would definitely make sure to compound was empty.’ 

Phyllis shook her head, ‘I’m sorry, Barbara, but Delia isn’t going to be coming. She and Nurse Mount are going to want to stay together, and considering that Nurse Mount is going to have to go into hiding, it makes sense for Delia to go with her now.’

Barbara felt her heart clench for an entirely different reason, ‘If you’re talking about them going into hiding for an extended period…you’re talking about Delia leaving the team.’ 

Phyllis looked down at the paper in her lap, ‘Spy teams aren’t meant to stay together forever.’ 

Barbara felt indignation rise in her, ‘This team is her _life_ , Phyllis. You can’t take her off of it without consulting her. Why don’t you talk to her about it?’ 

‘Because I don’t want to make her leave Nurse Mount. She should be with her, helping her adjust, to process the aftermath of the attack, not traipsing into life-threatening situations with us. You know how reckless she can be.’ 

‘But surely that’s her choice to make. Maybe she’d _choose_ to stay with Patsy.’

Phyllis waved a hand dismissively, ‘That seems unlikely. She can be _excessively_ dedicated to the cause. I’ll admit that she’s allowed her feelings for Nurse Mount to cloud her judgement from time to time these past few months, but when it comes down to it, she doesn’t let her emotions about people get between her and a mission. Remember, she asked her own mother to get her an invitation to the gala in her first contact after three years.’ 

Barbara thought about how Delia looked at Patsy. The love and dedication in Delia’s eyes reminded her of the way her father had looked at her mother. She wondered if Delia would be as willing to leave Patsy as Phyllis assumed. Before she had a chance to voice any of those thoughts, Phyllis continued. 

‘We also need to consider what would be best for Delia. Finding out we’ve lied to her, it would break her heart. But if she goes on leave with Nurse Mount, and the compound is destroyed by unknown agents while they’re in the Bloc, well… once we tell Nurse Mount she’s being looked for, they can go into hiding together. Delia would feel she was choosing to leave on her own. She’d never have to experience that heartbreak.’ 

Barbara wondered if Delia was the only one Phyllis was trying to spare heartbreak. She knew how hard it had been for Phyllis to lie to Delia. And now, while Phyllis seemed thoroughly convinced she was doing what was best for Delia, Barbara wondered if she was also trying to protect her own heart, even subconsciously. In a way, it was an elegant solution, but making someone feel they had a choice and actually _giving_ them a choice were very different things. And it also left Barbara trapped going into the compound. 

She spoke softly, wary of pushing Phyllis over the edge from irritated to angry, ‘I’m also thinking about what’s best for Delia. And I really think that’s having a choice, a _real_ choice. We could present Delia with the option of going as Patsy’s protection or assisting us in destroying the compound. We wouldn’t have to directly tell her Plan C has been in the works.’ 

Phyllis shot her a disbelieving look, ‘We wouldn’t be able to explain away all of the preparation work that’s already been done. Delia would figure it out immediately. No, they’ll both be sent on leave. It’s what’s best for all involved.’ 

Barbara felt panic seeping through her as it became clear that a decision had already been made. Phyllis was removing Delia from the team and that meant Barbara was going to have to go back into the compound. Her head started pounding. She needed to think her way out of this. She couldn’t go back there, ‘But—’

Phyllis cut her off, her tone impatient with a hint of anger, ‘I understand your concerns, Barbara, but we have a way of moving forward that wouldn’t have to involve either Patsy or Delia. Patsy would never even have to know Plan B existed. Delia can have a chance to just _enjoy_ life, for once. We can keep them both safe. We can keep their love _safe_. I won’t put what they have in danger when we have a perfectly workable alternative.’ 

Barbara was at a loss. She _needed_ to think her way out of this, but her head was pounding and waves of dread were rendering her thoughts fuzzy. She should tell Phyllis she couldn’t do it, that she…what? That she was scared to go back into the compound? What kind of spy would that make her? What kind of friend? How could she deny Delia a chance to enjoy her love? Or was is that Phyllis was denying Delia a chance to choose her own path? Or was Phyllis doing the right thing by protecting Delia? Barbara’s thoughts were muddled and confused. All she knew was that she couldn’t go back into the compound, but that very fact rendered her useless to the team. Would Phyllis kick her off too?

She looked at Phyllis, who was eyeing her expectantly. She wanted to speak up, but she felt her very soul shrink as she realized that she simply…couldn’t. Not to Phyllis. Not when Phyllis was already losing one member of her team. Not when Barbara could lose hers. 

Barbara looked down at the ground, ‘I suppose that makes sense.’ Her voice was so soft she was surprised Phyllis could hear it. 

She heard Phyllis sigh, ‘Having Delia leave the team is hard for me too. I wish the four of us could stay together forever, but that’s not how these things work. Eight years together is eons for a team like ours.’ 

Barbara simply nodded, not trusting herself to say anything at that moment. 

Phyllis stood and made to leave the tent, pausing by Barbara and putting her hand gently on her shoulder. Barbara felt like she might collapse under the weight of it. The sheer amount of caring and sadness and trust in that touch.

‘We’re aiming to test the bomb at around nineteen hundred hours if you want to meet by the weapons tent. It will allow you to get a sense of the range of the explosives.’ 

Barbara closed her eyes gave a small nod. She stood completely still as Phyllis left the tent, feeling a single tear make its way slowly down her face. She was losing her team, her family. She also felt like she was losing control of her body. Waves of nausea and dread ran rampant through her, and she had no idea how to even begin controlling them. Opening her eyes, she took in the small tent that had been their home for the past two and half months. She felt tendrils of panic weave their way through her body, entwining themselves around her heart and squeezing painfully. The tent seemed like it was closing in around her, trapping her. She needed to get out of here. Out of this tent. Out of this camp.

Bursting out of the tent, she almost smacked into a noticeably sweaty Winifred, who was babbling excitedly about how Fred knew of a secret place where they could go swimming. Winifred hadn’t been able to find Delia, and Phyllis had a shift in the medical tent, but perhaps she and Barbara could have a relaxing afternoon swim? Given how hot it was, taking the afternoon off seemed excusable. 

Barbara knew she should have been suspicious. Nothing with Fred was ever as straightforward as it should be, and it seemed unlikely that there would be a place in close proximity to camp that its residents would have no knowledge of. But her urgent need to get _away_ from this space, to find a place to not have to think, had outweighed any reservations she might have had. 

And while she had been mortified to intrude on what was obviously a _private_ moment for Patsy and Delia, she couldn’t bring herself to feel too terribly guilty. The reservoir had been a much-needed balm for her soul. Time to just… _relax_. To tell and hear silly stories. To be with her team, her friends. 

But then Patsy had taken Delia away, obviously upset about something.  
Trixie had mentioned that ‘the tree’ was where Patsy went when she was feeling down or overwhelmed, and Barbara was brought back to the reality of her situation. Of being asked to put herself on the line in order to protect Patsy and Delia. 

She knew that they, of all people, deserved a chance to experience love happily. Barbara, in comparison, had lived a life full of love and support and contentment. But there was a small voice in her head that clamoured to be heard. A voice that told her that she deserved to be protected too. 

_____________

 

She sighed and pushed herself out from under the car. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was eighteen hundred thirty. Half an hour until they were going to test the bomb. The bombs she was going to have to set. 

She stood and leaned against the car. She’d come here when they’d returned from the reservoir, hoping that working on the backlog of vehicles would give her mind something else to focus on, but it appeared that was not to be. She glanced down at her hands again, watching them shake. Maybe what she needed to do was walk it out. That was Delia’s remedy for stress, and Barbara had to admit the thought of moving her body made her mind a bit calmer. 

She headed off at a blistering pace, her mind whirring, trying to process everything that had happened. What was she going to do? Every time she thought about it, the obvious answer seemed to be to just…tell Phyllis the truth. But that seemed inordinately scary. Delia was already leaving the team, and Barbara needed to prove her worthiness by being as multi-faceted as possible. The last think Phyllis needed was another team member as limited as Winifred. 

Delia. There was another issue. Barbara understood why Phyllis was doing what she was. Well, mostly. But it had reached the point where not talking to Delia about it just seemed…wrong. She deserved to have a say in her own future with the team. Or was that just Barbara’s selfishness talking? Her intense desire to have Delia with the team to spare her having to go into the compound herself. What would she want if she was the one who had fallen in love? 

Her route brought her by the front gate, and she ducked quickly behind one of the canvas tents when she saw Patsy and Delia slipping through, finally returning from their time by the tree. She didn’t fully know _why_ she was hiding, but seeing the way Delia was carrying herself, she could just tell something was…off. Her teammate was masking it well, but Barbara had known her for too long not to pick up on the tension radiating from her. Like a giant ball of energy waiting to erupt. 

Barbara watched them carefully, blushing slightly when Patsy pulled Delia in for a kiss that looked so gentle and full of love. She wondered a bit wistfully if anyone was ever going to kiss her like that. Eventually, they pulled apart and Patsy slowly walked away in the direction of medical staff housing. 

The moment Patsy was out of view, Delia took off in the direction of their tent. Barbara stepped out to intercept her. 

‘Hullo Delia! How was the tree?’ 

Delia ignored her, looking completely pre-occupied, ‘Where’s Phyllis?’ 

‘Umm…in our tent I think. Or at least, that’s where she was headed after dinner. Why? Is there something –’

Delia cut her off abruptly, taking off in the direction of their tent, ‘I need to talk to Phyllis. You should come too. It affects…well, everything.’ 

Even if Delia hadn’t invited her, there’s no way Barbara would have allowed her to confront Phyllis alone. With Delia this agitated, the number of lies flying around had the ability to make the situation truly explosive. If Phyllis and Delia got touchy with one another, Barbara would need to be there to calm the situation down. Barbara scurried off after Delia. 

As it turned out, they didn’t need to go far. They soon found their team leader strolling towards the entrance to the weapons tent. Barbara looked at her watch and froze. Eighteen hundred forty-five hours. Phyllis was heading to check on the bomb. Shit. Barbara eyed the entrance to the weapons tent nervously as Delia made her way rapidly towards Phyllis. Neither Evangelina nor Jane knew that Delia was being kept in the dark about Plan C. 

Delia called out as soon as she was close enough to not have to yell, ‘Phyllis! I need to talk to you. Now. It’s urgent.’ 

Barbara was impressed with just how calm Phyllis looked as she turned to an obviously-distressed Delia, ‘Delia? Is something wrong?’ 

Delia spoke so quickly all of her sentences blended together into a jumble, ‘Yes, something’s _very_ wrong. We have to call off Plan B. There’s no way Patsy can do it. It’s not safe. It would be a suicide mission. We can’t let her go. You have to call HQ right away and tell them it’s off. We need to re-calibrate our plan.’ 

Phyllis held out a hand, ‘Take a deep breath, Delia. What happened?’ 

‘Her mother’s _dead_ , Phyllis. She died of a disease that covered her body in black ribbons. Her sister died from it too. Patsy got sick, but survived it. It happened when she was _nine_. That was before the Reckoning.’ 

Phyllis’ brow furrowed, ‘You’re sure? _She’s_ sure?’ 

‘She was there by her mother’s side when she died. She _saw_ her.’ 

‘But that doesn’t make sense…’ Phyllis trailed off, staring into the distance for several long moments before looking back at Delia, ‘ _Before_ the Reckoning?’ 

Delia nodded rapidly, ‘And all _three_ of them. Don’t you see? There’s no way we can ask Patsy to go with us for Plan B. It’s far too dangerous.’ 

Phyllis seemed in another world, ‘And Nurse Mount got sick but survived?’ 

Delia gave another curt nod, ‘And Phyllis…she thinks they just _happened_ to get sick. That her father was searching for a cure. That everyone was working to save them.’ 

Phyllis’ attention snapped back to Delia, ‘She doesn’t know?’ 

Delia shook her head, ‘We have to tell her. We have to tell her everything.’ 

At that moment, Evangelina strode out of the weapons tent wearing an ill-fitting de-mining helmet and looking exceedingly pleased. As soon as she saw the three of them gathered, she called out, sounding practically jovial. 

‘Ah, I was wondering where you were. Jane’s just putting the finishing touches on the test bomb now. I’m still a bit concerned about the stability of the lead azide, but if all goes well, we’ll soon be able to send the Redemptionists a message…attacks against civilians won’t go unpunished. They won’t know what hit them at that compound of theirs. I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.’ She turned and ducked back into the tent. 

All three of the women standing outside remained stock still for several long, loaded moments. Barbara could barely breathe, her eyes fixed on Delia’s face as she watched her teammate’s eyes dart back and forth, trying to piece together what she’d heard. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Delia turned to her team leader, her face a mixture of hurt and confusion. 

Her voice, when it came, was plaintive, ‘Phyllis?’ 

‘Let me explain,’ Phyllis’ tone was conciliatory, with just the slightest hint of panic, ‘There were some…developments that necessitated shifting the plan slightly.’ 

Delia’s brow furrowed and she looked bewildered, ‘Shifting the plan?’ She paused for a moment before continuing, sounding devastated, ‘You didn’t tell me?’ 

‘I wanted to protect you.’ 

‘To protect me? We’re a team! How could I _possibly_ need to be protected from changes to the mission?’ 

‘I wanted to give you the chance to focus on Nurse Mount. On your relationship with her.’ 

Delia simply stared before softly asking, ‘How long? How long have you been lying to me?’ She sounded as if she was trying to hold back tears.

Phyllis looked down at the ground for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking Delia right in the eye, her face apologetic, ‘A month and a half.’ 

Delia took a step back, as if she’d been struck. She stared at Phyllis, looking utterly heartbroken. Her voice came out a whisper, ‘A _month_ and a half. I thought we were a _team_.’ She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. When she opened them, they were glistening with tears, ‘Eight years, Phyllis. _Eight. Years._ You were all I had for eight years. This team was my job. My family. My _everything_.’ 

Phyllis stepped forward, reaching out towards Delia, ‘Delia. Please.’ 

Delia batted her hand away, and Barbara watched as the heartbreak in her eyes began to morph into righteous anger. This is what she had feared. Why she was here.

‘After everything I’ve done, everything we’ve been through, you still didn’t trust me. You thought I’d been _blinded_ by my feelings. You made me lie to Patsy, and the entire time you were lying to _me_? What would I have had to do to earn your trust, Phyllis? How many more years would it have taken?’ 

Barbara stepped in, ‘No Delia, it was nothing like that.’ 

Delia whirled to face her, her face a mixture of hurt and anger, her volume increasing, ‘You knew too? You’ve been lying to me too? What, the two of you just thought you’d plan your own little mission…to hell with the rest of the team!’ 

‘Well, actually, we needed Winifred to design the detonator so…’ as soon as Barbara said it, she realized how big of a mistake it was. She felt completely helpless as Delia’s face contorted into outright rage. 

‘Winifred?! All _three_ of you were making a plan that involved Patsy behind my _back_?’ She whirled around, staring down Phyllis, ‘What, you thought just because I cared about her I was untrustworthy? _Useless_?’ 

Evangelina stuck her head out of the tent, looking perturbed, ‘Keep the racket down out there you lot, Jane’s trying to –’. 

Suddenly, Barbara felt as if her entire body had been slammed by a sledgehammer… as if she’d fallen a tremendous distance only to land face-first on a slab of hard concrete. A tremendous roaring built in her ears and she was vaguely aware of the sensation of flying backwards through the air as, for a brief moment, all of her bones felt like they’d been transformed into molten metal. Her mind, shockingly calmly, managed to process the thought that, apparently, the lead azide had been as unstable as they’d all feared, before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given how this chapter ends, I want to absolutely assure you that it won't be another month and a half before it's updated.


	23. Patsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

Patsy’s entire body was tingling, thrumming with a barely-contained energy that felt like it might explode out of her at any moment. 

She had told someone. 

She had told Delia, and Delia had held her and comforted her and told her she was strong. Delia hadn’t judged her. She had heard Patsy’s greatest secret and she had enveloped Patsy in warmth and love and protection, silencing the demons of recrimination even if just for a brief, blissful moment. 

It was something she’d never told anyone before, not even Julienne. Not that she had lied; she respected the counsellor too much to lie. She had simply left her broken promise out of the story. It’s not as if there wasn’t already plentiful fodder for their sessions without informing her superior that she couldn’t even be relied upon to fulfil a deathbed promise. That she was the kind of person who would knowingly leave her sister alone to die. 

No, it was something no one else had ever known, her own feelings about it going so far beyond shame that she had never been able to bring herself to share it.

Until now. 

Now someone else knew. 

She’d shared her greatest secret and she felt giddy and loved, but also oddly…empty? 

Patsy slowed her strides towards her tent, where she’d been headed to change before grabbing some dinner. She was a bit baffled as she felt the encroaching hollowness seeping its way into her bones. She wondered if it was simply that odd, almost vacant feeling that sometimes came after the initial excitement of momentous events had faded. But this felt like something more. After all, her great secret had spent almost two decades taking up so much space in her mind…in her soul. And now, now it had been shared, and it felt as if a large, emotional tumour had shrunk, leaving a gaping chasm. She tensed as panic rushed to fill in the crevice. 

She had told someone. 

She had told Delia, and Delia had walked her back to camp, but then had run off, telling her that she needed to run an errand before dinner. What if Delia was judging her? She had heard Patsy’s greatest secret, and what if it had been too much? What if she’d just made an excuse to get away? What if telling someone had been a huge mistake? 

Patsy stopped walking and closed her eyes, willing herself to remember the warmth in Delia’s voice, the tenderness in her touch, the love in her eyes. She felt the waves of panic slowly recede. Sharing her secret had left a hole, but it didn’t need to be filled with panic. Delia could help her fill it with love. Delia _wanted_ to help her fill it with love. 

She took a deep breath and smiled. Delia _wanted_ to share Patsy’s burdens and had shared demons of her own. Delia had trusted her, and Patsy was struck by just much she trusted Delia in return. Just how much she loved her. 

Patsy’s eyes snapped open, her smile growing larger as she allowed that admission to cascade through her body. She loved Delia. If she was honest with herself, she had loved Delia for quite some time now, though it had recently grown and developed into something so palpable she felt as if she were wrapped in a thick blanket of her love for Delia. Of Delia’s love for her. 

She realized that, while she’d avoided thinking about what would happen when the incendiary system was finished and the Quartet had to leave, she needed to figure out a way to stay with Delia. Or for Delia to stay with her. Imagining her life without Delia in it was like imagining living without a limb. Or without her lungs; suffocating even in theory. 

She began walking towards her tent again, pondering all of the myriad ways in which Delia was the most wonderful person Patsy had ever met. She was so warm and caring and fun and beautiful and smart and passionate and Patsy was so very, very lucky. She thought about just how much Delia deserved to feel safe and happy. She hoped that Delia felt as loved as she did. 

Patsy furrowed her brow, realizing that she hadn’t _told_ Delia that she loved her. Delia probably knew, but still, it felt like an important thing to say. Patsy wondered how to tell her. Should she just...blurt it out in conversation? That didn’t feel right, though she had to admit that, if she didn’t have a plan, that was probably what would happen. 

No, she needed to create a special moment of some kind. Sometime when they could focus on each other. Somewhere where they could be in private. Her mind wandered to earlier that day, when they had been disturbed. She felt her face flush as she thought back to how wonderful it had felt to kiss Delia so unabashedly. How the anticipation of the moment had made every touch feel electric. How allowing her desires to take control had felt so incredibly…freeing. She had been incensed when Fred had appeared. It had taken all of her strength to hide her annoyance, to put up a casual façade so as not to embarrass Delia. But still, it grated her that the opportunity had been lost, the moment ruined. 

She wondered if she could perhaps chat with Trixie about the blonde sleeping somewhere else for an evening. Though it seemed a shame to have their first time be in a tiny camp bed in a tent right next to all of the other staff’s sleeping quarters. To have to be careful and silent. To hold back. 

She shook her head; she didn’t want it to be like that. But could she get another afternoon off? She’d already had to –. 

Suddenly, Patsy was snapped from her thoughts by the pulsing reverberation of a large explosion. She whipped around to see a cloud of dust and smoke coming up from the direction of the weapons tent. A stiff breeze swirled around her as she froze for a moment before looking up. Had they just been bombed? Were more on the way? 

Her eyes scanned the blue, cloudless sky looking for any traces of an aircraft or missile contrail, but she couldn’t see anything that looked at all suspicious. That left only one conclusion: something in camp had exploded. 

She heard the emergency siren begin blaring just as she took off at a run in the direction of the explosion, her mind racing considering what it could have been. The propane tanks exploding? Surely that would have been larger and involved more flame. Anyway, the propane tanks were on the other end of camp. One of the perimeter explosives detonating while it was being prepared? Patsy swore the Quartet had installed the last of them this morning. And anyway, those wouldn’t lead to such a large explosion. 

She was still trying to deduce the cause when she rounded a canvas tent and was greeted with a scene that could only be described as chaos. Her eyes flitted from place to place, trying to take everything in.

A hot wind swirled detritus through the air, which almost _tasted_ metallic. The weapons tent was in tatters, various pieces of weaponry scattered around the area. Several other tents in the vicinity were badly damaged, shredded pieces of canvas flapping in the air. Peter was running around with a fire extinguisher, trying to put out several small blazes. Julienne was leaning over something, no _someone_ , within the wreckage of the tent. Patsy couldn’t make out who it was…they appeared to be wrapped in something large and green. People were shouting as they came running in from all directions. Looking to her left, her eyes fell on a figure who had been launched several feet from the entrance to the tent. They appeared to be wearing some kind of helmet, and Patsy couldn’t quite tell who it was. 

Instinctively, she started towards them while her eyes continued scanning. That’s when she saw the three figures who had been thrown clear into what remained of a housing tent. Her heart stopped as she recognized the figure lying in the centre, her body contorted awkwardly. 

_‘Delia!’_

Patsy sprinted towards Delia, her field of vision narrowing so that she could see nothing but the small figure crumpled on the ground. Nothing else mattered. 

Reaching Delia, she dropped to her knees running her hands lightly over the brunette's unconscious body, careful not to move her. She hesitated for a moment before reaching to feel for a pulse, her vision getting blurry as terror coursed through her. 

What if Delia was dead? 

What would Patsy do? 

She’d just found someone to trust, someone to love, and now they might be gone.

She felt nauseous as her fingers searched for Delia’s artery, her stomach clenching into a ball of iron as she held her breath, hoping beyond hope to feel the heartbeat that would dispel her worst fears. 

Relief flooded Patsy’s system as she felt a light, rhythmic pulse against her fingers. She paused for a moment, to make absolutely sure she wasn’t simply sensing her own pounding heart, before moving her hand to Delia’s face, hoping to feel for breath. 

She leaned down, so close she could make out every one of Delia’s eyelashes, noticing that they were covered in a thick layer of dust. She longed to see them flicker open. To know that Delia was going to be alright. 

She spoke softly into Delia’s ear, her voice high and tight with panic, ‘Delia. Delia can you hear me? Please, Delia. Please wake up.’ 

After a moment of silence, her entreaty was answered with a quiet groan as Delia began to stir, curling reflexively into a foetal position.

Tears of relief blurred Patsy’s vision. Delia was alive. She was breathing and she was conscious and she could move all of her limbs. 

Patsy reached under Delia, gently bundling the brunette into her arms, resting Delia’s head in the crook of her elbow as she carefully brushed the hair out of her face. Patsy ghosted her hand over the scrapes covering the right side of Delia’s face, ferocious bruises already blooming underneath them, as if Delia had slid across the hard ground on her face. She was reassured to note that none of them looked too deep. 

‘Delia, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me Deels?’ 

Delia groaned again. When she spoke, her voice was soft and uncertain, ‘Mam?’ 

‘No, sweetheart. It’s me, Patsy.’ 

‘Patsy?’ 

Delia’s eyes opened for a moment, the normally sparkling blue unfocused and confused, before she slammed them shut again, letting out a piteous groan. She curled into Patsy’s embrace, nestling her eyes into Patsy’s arm as her hand came up and fiercely gripped Patsy’s shirt, the strain in her voice evident even as it was muffled by the redhead’s body, ‘Hurts!’ 

Patsy pulled Delia up and cocooned her in a protective embrace, kissing the top of her head lightly. Delia was alive. She was talking and she had the strength to grip with her hands and she understood she was in pain. 

‘I know it does, sweetheart, I know. Can you tell me where it hurts? Does it hurt anywhere other than your head?’ 

Delia simply whimpered in response, pulling tighter on Patsy’s shirt. Patsy waited patiently, relishing the feeling of Delia’s breaths against her chest, a constant reassurance that Delia was alive and breathing. 

Suddenly, Delia pushed herself away from Patsy slightly and turned her head to vomit onto the ground beside them. Patsy held her hair back from her face as she retched, her body shaking in Patsy’s arms. As soon as she finished, she burrowed back down into Patsy’s embrace and let out a high-pitched, plaintive whine. 

‘I’m sorry, Mam. I’m sorry. It hurts.’

‘I’m not your mam, Delia. I’m Patsy.’ 

She felt a bolt of panic shoot through her as her mind raced. Vomiting and disorientation pointed to a significant head injury. Perhaps even a haemorrhage. She needed to get Delia somewhere dark and calm, and get her head scanned. She ran her hand along the rest of Delia’s body, focusing on her abdomen, but Delia didn’t flinch or react negatively to the pressure. Alright, so just a head injury.

Something tickled the edge of her awareness…a muffled voice that sounded like it came from the bottom of a well. 

‘Nurse Mount.’ 

Patsy ignored it, pushing it aside and re-focusing on Delia. Delia needed to be watched carefully. She needed to be kept awake and observed for seizures or swelling. To be checked periodically to ensure her senses were coming back. Patsy wasn’t going to leave her side. 

‘Nurse Mount.’ The voice returned, a little louder this time, tapping her consciousness, trying to pull her away from Delia. 

Patsy ignored it again, lightly stroking the top of Delia’s head as the brunette continued to whimper in her arms. The voice wanted Nurse Mount, but she wasn’t Nurse Mount right now, she was Patsy. She was Patsy and she loved Delia. She loved Delia so much it made it hard to breathe. She needed to be here for her; to make sure she was alright. 

‘Patsy!’ The panic in the voice finally wrested her attention away. She looked up in search of the speaker and was immediately plunged into an overwhelming pandemonium. It was as if the world had been on mute and she had suddenly jumped into a cacophony of sound. 

People were shouting and while someone had gotten the incendiary hoses out to put out the fires, it hadn’t been in time to stop their few boxes of ammunition from catching fire, and the cartridges were emitting deafening pops. Patsy’s eyes flitted across the scene, taking in the security crew scuttling into the burning wreckage trying to save whatever weaponry they could…Trixie leaning over the figure in the tent, her hands and uniform covered in blood while Chummy approached with a stretcher…Nurse Crane moaning and holding her right leg, which was wedged at an awkward angle between a tent pole and camp bed, obviously badly broken…before they finally lit on a pair of hazel eyes staring at her intently. Julienne. Julienne, kneeling next to the figure in the helmet, had been calling to her. 

Upon seeing that Patsy was paying attention, she called out again, ‘What’s her status, Nurse Mount?’ 

Patsy simply stared for a moment before her training took over and she rattled off her response clinically, ‘She’s conscious and can move all of her limbs, but she’s light sensitive, severely disoriented and has vomited. She also has facial abrasions and bruising. She needs a scan and –’

Julienne cut her off, ‘Is there anything else you can do out here to get her out of immediate danger of death?’ 

Despite the obvious severity of the situation as a whole, Patsy was shocked by the question, ‘No, but –’

‘Then your skills are urgently needed elsewhere, Nurse Mount. Agent Gilbert and Nurse Crane haven’t been triaged and I need immediate assistance with Evangelina.’ 

Patsy’s heart called out in protest as she held Delia to her. Delia who was alive, but confused and in pain and gripping her shirt as if Patsy was the only thing tethering her to this reality. Delia who might be seriously injured and needed her head scanned. She couldn’t leave Delia. She wouldn’t. 

‘I can’t leave her.’ 

Julienne’s eyes blazed, ‘Patsy, I need you to be Nurse Mount right now. We can’t do this without Nurse Mount. People will die.’ 

Patsy looked down at the small figure in her arms, who she wanted so dearly to protect. She wished in that moment that she could wrap Delia up and take her and just…go. Somewhere away from all of this where Delia could be safe. Where they could _both_ be safe. But she couldn’t. She had skills and responsibilities. People who were relying on her. People who needed her to be strong. 

She leaned down and spoke soothingly, ‘Deels, I need to go now, but I’m going to be back just as soon as I can.’ 

She began to pull away and Delia responded by gripping her shirt impossibly tighter, burrowing even further into Patsy’s chest. Her heart ached as she began to pry Delia’s fingers open. 

‘I’m sorry sweetheart, but I have to help other people who are hurting.’ 

Delia whimpered, ‘It hurts.’ 

‘I know Deels, and I want to stay with you, but I can’t. Not right now.’ As she spoke, she carefully loosened Delia’s hold on her and gently lifted Delia off of her lap, tenderly placing her on the ground. 

Delia immediately curled into a ball, an arm over her face, mewling pitifully, ‘I’m sorry, Mam. I’m sorry I threw up.’ 

Patsy felt her stomach clench with worry. She had to remind herself that Delia needed a scan and observation. At this moment, she wasn’t in immediate danger of dying. Others were. Patsy couldn’t be responsible for any more people dying.

Looking up, she grabbed two tattered pieces of canvas dangling above them and ripped them off. She folded one into a pillow, which she placed delicately under Delia’s head. The other she lay carefully over Delia’s head to block out any light and hopefully mute the noise somewhat.

She drew close to Delia, pulling up the canvas and whispering in her ear, ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I have to go now, but I’m going to come back to you just as soon as I can. I need you to be strong while I’m gone, Deels. I need you to try to come back to me too. I love you, Delia Busby, and I _need_ you to come back.’ She kissed Delia lightly on the left side of her forehead and stood up. 

It was heart-wrenchingly difficult to leave Delia lying there on the ground, looking so small and vulnerable, but she had to remind herself that other people needed her. Other people were dying. 

Patsy shifted her focus back to the tumult around her. What had Julienne said needed to be done? Right, triage and Evangelina. Patsy looked back towards Julienne, noting that Shelagh was now huddled with her over Evangelina. Good. Shelagh had given up nursing several years ago in favour of full-time logistical and management work, but as Nurse Crane had shown, those skills were still there to be tapped into if needed. 

Nurse Crane.

Patsy turned and ran the few metres to where she lay. Kneeling beside her, she noticed the older woman was lying on her back staring into the sky, her jaw firmly clenched. She must have been in incredible pain. 

Upon seeing Patsy beside her, Nurse Crane raised her head to look in the direction of her two fallen team members. Her voice came out strained but firm, ‘I’m fine. Go to Barbara.’ 

Patsy responded calmly, ‘I’ll go to Barbara in a moment. Besides your leg, do you have any other points of pain? 

Nurse Crane shook her head dismissively, ‘No. My breathing is fine. I have no abdominal sensitivity and I never lost consciousness. Now go to Barbara.’

Patsy shook her head, ‘You know as well as I do we have to get your leg unpinned as rapidly as possible.’ 

Nurse Crane simply furrowed her brow, and closed her eyes as Patsy stood and grabbed the camp bed. It refused to budge and she noticed that another pole had pinned it in. She grabbed a long chunk of wood that was lying on the ground, wedging it under the pole and using it as a lever to pry the pole up slightly. Grasping the camp bed, she yanked it forcefully, feeling it slide an inch or two towards her. 

She heard Nurse Crane’s strained voice from the other side of the bed, ‘I’m free.’ 

Patsy ran around and kneeled next to her again, pulling up her trouser cuff to examine the leg. The break was in almost the exact same place it had been when Nurse Crane first arrived in camp. Patsy couldn’t imagine how frustrated the old spy must feel, to be back at square one so soon after recovering, ‘Alright. It looks somewhat stable. I’ll have someone come and bring you to the medical tent as soon as I can wrangle someone with a stretcher. It shouldn’t be long.’ 

‘I understand. I’m fine. Go.’ 

Patsy moved to get up, but felt Nurse Crane grip her arm a bit hesitantly. She looked back to see the spy eyeing Delia with worry. 

‘You said she has facial abrasions. How bad are they? Is she in danger of losing too much blood?’

Patsy shook her head, ‘None of them are too deep. They should heal quickly on their own.’ 

‘And her disorientation? How bad is it?’ 

Patsy looked down. She couldn’t think about how worried she was about Delia’s mental state right now. She had to stay focused. 

She took a deep breath, ‘Delia’s not in imminent danger. I need to go check on Barbara now.’ 

She stood before Nurse Crane could ask any follow-up questions and made her way to Barbara. Kneeling over the spy’s unconscious form, she felt for a pulse and breathing, relieved that both felt normal. Gently, she tried rousing Barbara, but she remained entirely non-responsive. Patsy wasn’t particularly surprised. It wasn’t all that long ago that Barbara had suffered head trauma that had left her in a state of sedated semi-consciousness for days. The blast wave could have done significant damage to her still-healing brain.

Wary of moving her too much, Patsy carefully checked Barbara’s limbs and abdomen for acute bruising and swelling. Finding none, she felt tenderly around Barbara’s head for bumps or cuts, her search once again revealing nothing of immediate concern. Satisfied she’d been cared for as effectively as possible outside of the medical tent, Pasty stood and called out an update to Julienne. 

The camp leader nodded, ‘Do you think any of them will need emergency transfer to the Bloc?’ 

Nurse Crane called out before Patsy had a chance to respond, ‘I don’t need urgent transport, but if either Delia or Barbara are transferred, I’m going with them.’ 

Patsy jumped in, ‘I agree with Nurse Crane’s self-assessment, though we should be on guard for compartment syndrome, as swelling is inevitable. I can’t give a recommendation in regards to the other two until I get accurate vitals and head scans in the medical tent. If they aren’t in imminent danger, it might be best to spare them the journey, as the jolting wouldn’t be good.’ 

Julienne looked satisfied, ‘Understood. Now your assistance is needed here. I have to go inform HQ that several staff members require emergency evacuation. Go and fetch a stretcher so you and Mrs Turner can get Evangelina to the medical tent. She needs immediate care. Members of Peter’s team will bring the other three in as soon as stretchers are available.’ 

The camp leader stood and approached Patsy, making direct eye contact with her. She spoke softly, so only Patsy could hear, ‘Nurse Mount. Dr Noakes and Nurse Franklin are going to be unable to assist you for quite some time, so you will be in charge of _all_ of the patient’s care. You’re going to have to stay focused on _all of them_. Do you understand?’ 

Patsy nodded solemnly, feeling a bit hurt that Julienne felt the need to specify that, but understanding it was a chiding she probably deserved, considering she’d just said she couldn’t leave Delia. 

‘Good. I trust you.’ 

With a worried glance back towards Evangelina, Julienne hurried off in the direction of the communications tent. 

After ensuring that Shelagh was capable of holding down the fort on her own for a moment, Patsy jetted off, fetching the remaining stretcher and sprinting back to the bomb site. As they worked to load the older nurse onto it, Patsy was able to take a good look at Evangelina’s injuries for the first time. While her head didn’t have any visible injuries, the rest of her body hadn’t been so lucky. Her entire left side was not only burned, but the flesh along her arm, leg and abdomen looked as if it had been shredded. There were a particularly deep cuts on her arm and upper thigh that pulsed out blood when Shelagh released them to grab the stretcher. 

Patsy felt concern grip her. She and Shelagh were going to do the best they could, but injuries this severe really needed to be looked at by a doctor. They carried Evangelina into the tent, carefully transferring her to a bed before handing the stretcher to a member of Peter’s team and taking turns going to the sink to wash up. 

Returning to Evangelina, Patsy examined the cut on her arm carefully before glancing at Shelagh, who was cleaning the gash on her thigh, and quietly asking, ‘Do you know why Chummy isn’t going to be able to assist with Evangelina’s care? These cuts really could use looking at by a doctor.’ 

Shelagh cleared her throat before speaking, though it didn’t succeed in masking the strain and worry from her voice, ‘She and Trixie are in the operating theatre with Jane. Apparently Jane was wearing our bomb suit, but if you remember, we don’t have the bottom half. It protected her head and torso well, but her legs…well, they’re in surgery now, though I don’t know whether the goal is to save her legs or simply get the bleeding to stop.’ 

Patsy felt worry clench her gut as she glanced at the door of the operating theatre. She wondered what on earth Jane and Evangelina had been doing…perhaps making some new protection for camp? She thought back to just how destroyed the weapons tent had been. Jane was so immeasurably lucky to have been wearing their bomb suit. 

Patsy set about cleaning Evangelina’s arm cut, asking Shelagh to apply pressure to both cuts once they were satisfactorily sterilised. She had just set about checking Evanglina’s abdomen for bruising or swelling when several members of Peter’s team rushed in with Barbara on a stretcher. 

After directing them towards one of the beds, Patsy considered how she should allocate labour. Barbara needed an immediate scan, but Jane usually operated the machine. And she and Shelagh were both the only people with the medical knowledge to interpret the results and the only people with the skills to care for Evangelina. She was about to call out to one of the security crew to have them fetch the machine when Winifred, looking a wee bit green, stumbled out of the operating theatre. Patsy couldn’t hide her confusion as she stared at the now nervous-looking spy. 

‘I…ummm…I was assisting in theatre, but Dr Noakes thought I might be more useful out here.’ 

Patsy gave a small nod, thankful for an additional set of hands, ‘Do you know how to operate the portable CT scanner?’ 

Winifred shook her head. 

‘Well do you know what it looks like?’ 

‘I _think_ so.’ 

‘Good. Go and get it and bring it to Barbara.’ 

Winifred nodded and scurried off to the storage room. Patsy turned her attention back to Evangelina. Finding no worrisome abdominal bruising, she looked up at Shelagh, ‘Has she regained consciousness at all?’ 

Evangelina’s gruff voice cut in, ‘I’m conscious now. I’m just trying to remain very, very still so you lot don’t manage to do more damage than the blast.’ 

Patsy couldn’t help the small smile that snuck across her face, ‘That’s very considerate of you Evangelina. Do you have any internal abdominal pain?’ 

‘It’s hard to differentiate when there’s pain everywhere.’

Patsy nodded and palpated her abdomen, pleased that Evangelina didn’t indicate that this led to any additional acute discomfort. 

‘Alright, I think we’re safe on the abdominal front. Is there anything else that I should know about?’ 

‘It’s hard to tell, because everything feels painful and numb at the same time, but my left arm feels…odd.’ 

Patsy nodded at Shelagh who administered tests for feeling. Patsy furrowed her brow. 

‘It seems like your radial nerve might be injured.’ Patsy looked at Evanglina’s arm again, this time focusing on the arm itself rather than just the cut. She saw the odd angle it sat at, ‘I think you have a humeral break. We’ll try to get it stabilized as soon as we can get the bleeding stopped.’ 

‘I understand. It’s also a bit difficult to breathe.’ 

Before Patsy could respond to this, Winifred bustled out of the storage room rolling the CT scanner just as Peter’s team returned with Delia rolled into a ball on her stretcher. 

Patsy set each of them in the right direction while she grabbed a spirometer, handing it to Shelagh with instructions to get a sense of Evangelina’s lung capacity. Grabbing one of the security workers, she instructed them to go and turn on the generator. She made her way over to Barbara, taking her vitals as she explained to Winifred how the portable scanner worked. Once she had finished the run-through, she looked expectantly at the smaller woman. 

‘I…um… I _think_ I understand, but I’ve never really done anything like this before.’ 

‘It’s a machine, Winifred. You like machines, right?’ 

‘I mean, yes, but –’

‘Good. Call me over when it’s done.’ 

She bustled over to Delia, trying so hard to regulate her breathing. To control her pounding heart. To stay professional. She needed to be Nurse Mount right now. She leaned down, speaking softly, as she put on the blood pressure cuff, ‘How are you feeling, Delia?’ 

The mumbled voice was somehow both pitiful and petulant, ‘Hurts!’ 

‘Do you know who I am, Delia? Do you recognize my voice?’ 

Delia simply grumbled for a moment before Patsy heard the words ‘Not Mam’ make their way up from the huddled figure. 

Patsy sighed. Well, that was progress, she supposed. 

‘I know it hurts Delia, but I’m sorry, I can’t give you any pain medication. We need to be able to make accurate assessments of your mental state, and narcotics will just muddy things.’ 

A low, angry growl emanated from the figure on the table and, despite herself, Patsy gave a small smile. At least Delia was aware enough to know what she was being denied. After finishing taking her vitals, Patsy allowed herself a brief moment to reach out and stroke Delia’s hair, willing her brain to be alright. Her awareness to return. 

Shelagh called out, disturbing the moment, ‘The bleeding has stopped on both cuts. Should we stitch them up?’ 

Patsy took a deep breath and returned to Evangelina, examining the arm cut carefully, ‘Let’s pack this one and leave it open. She’s going to be transferred to the Bloc, and they might be able to use it as an access point to repair the radial nerve.’ She switched to examining the deep injury to her thigh, ‘This one we should probably stitch up.’ 

Shelagh nodded and began packing the arm wound, updating Patsy as she did so, ‘Her lung capacity was only fifty five percent of what we would predict, though it’s hard to tell how much of that is because of her body position or the pain.’ 

Patsy, concerned, turned back from where she had gone to the table to grab a stitch kit, ‘She should still be able to get a better reading than _that_.’ She examined Evangelina’s abdomen and upper body again, but didn’t see any bruises that looked deep. She and Shelagh worked together to shift her slightly onto her right side to examine her back, but there was nothing of concern there either. Patsy squinched her face in concentration. Perhaps it was just the pain preventing her from expanding her diaphragm? 

Winifred’s voice called out, ‘Patsy! Barbara’s scan is ready!’ 

Patsy nodded and had Shelagh begin stitching up Evangelina’s leg before making her way over to the scanner. Squinting down at the screen, she tried to interpret what she was seeing. She’d never understood why camps were equipped with portable scanners and ultrasounds but not radiologists. Though she supposed the international aide donations they’d received after the latest cease-fire had left the Bloc with more machines than people who knew how to use them. 

She called Shelagh over for a second opinion. They both agreed that, while there was a worrisome amount of general swelling, it didn’t look like there was a haemorrhage. They decided to medicate and sedate to reduce risk of swelling, and then continue careful observations. 

Patsy had just turned to Winifred to give her more instructions when two members of Peter’s team burst through the door, bearing Nurse Crane. Patsy told them which bed to put her on and then requisitioned one of them, Ameera, to remain and assist with observational duties. She sent Winifred over to Delia with the CT scanner. 

While Shelagh returned to Evangelina, Patsy simultaneously set up an IV and explained to her new orderly how to take periodic blood pressure and heart rate measurements. Running to the supply room for sedatives, medications and oxygen, she returned to find Winifred standing by Barbara looking a bit ashamed. 

Patsy glanced over towards Delia, confused, ‘What’s the matter, Winifred?’ 

‘She…she doesn’t want to lie back so her head can go into the machine.’ 

‘Did you explain to her what you were doing?’ 

Winifred nodded and looked uncertainly over towards Delia, ‘She…well… she just kept telling me to go away and saying that she’s hurting. She got rather rude when I asked again.’ 

Patsy huffed impatiently, ‘Alright, I’ll do the scan. You’ve worked with Nurse Crane and Evangelina on caring for broken bones, correct?’

Winifred looked suddenly terrified, ‘I mean, yes, but –’ 

Patsy turned and began administering medication to Barbara, ‘Good. Then go and work on stabilizing Nurse Crane’s leg. It looks like a rather bad break and we don’t need any vascular injuries.’ 

‘But I’m not qualified to –’

Patsy cut her off impatiently as she applied an oxygen mask to Barbara’s face, ‘Qualifications don’t matter right now, Winifred. We have four badly injured people and I need every pair of hands I can get. You’ve stabilized breaks before, yes?’ 

Winifred’s voice came out as a squeak, ‘With help.’ 

‘And I’m sure Nurse Crane will help you. Also, bring her some morphine from the supply room.’ 

Winifred nodded, looking a little ill, and skittered away. 

Patsy turned and instructed Ameera to write down and call out Barbara’s vitals to her every five minutes before turning to make her way towards Delia. As she did, she called out across the tent, ‘Nurse Crane, Winifred will be bringing you over some pain medication shortly.’ 

‘That would be much appreciated,’ came the dry response. 

Patsy pulled up alongside Delia and took a deep breath, looking over the somewhat pitiful figure huddled in a ball on the bed. She hated that she couldn’t give Delia anything for the pain, but regular painkillers might worsen any haemorrhagic bleeding and narcotics were out of the question. 

She leaned down and spoke softly, ‘Does it still hurt, Deels?’ 

A grumble of assent came up from the table. 

‘I understand that you want to keep your head covered, but if your scan comes back normal, then I can give you something for the pain. How does that sound?’ 

There were several beats of silence before Delia began slowly unfurling, keeping her eyes tightly shut, until she was laid out on her back, a forearm over her eyes. Patsy breathed a sigh of relief and carefully removed Delia’s arm, apologizing and assuring her she could curl up again in a moment. She told her to lie very still and then stepped back, positioning and turning on the machine. 

It had just started whirring quietly when Evangelina suddenly sat up, coughing violently and spitting up blood all over her bed. 

‘Shit!’ Patsy took off at a run to help Shelagh get Evangelina lying back down again. Her rapid movement had re-opened the partially stitched cut on her leg, which was now bleeding again. 

Shelagh went to put pressure on it, but Patsy stopped her, ‘Don’t worry about that right now. We need to figure out what’s going on with her lungs. Run and get the portable ultrasound and some oxygen.’ 

Shelagh took off at a run and Patsy closed her eyes for a moment, running through every possible respiratory issue she’d learned about in school before suddenly it came to her. Blast lung. She shook her head. Of course, how had she not thought of it before? 

She reached over and grabbed some gauze and a bandage, shoving the gauze into Evangelina’s thigh wound and wrapping it tightly. It was a bit sloppy, but it would have to do for now. 

Once Shelagh had returned, Patsy set up the machine while Shelagh got the oxygen flowing and worked to hold a panicking Evangelina steady. 

‘I know it’s scary, but try to stay as still as you can, Evangelina. We need to see how much damage has been done to the lungs by the blast wave.’ 

She had just begun running the ultrasound when there was a commotion behind her and she turned to see Delia vomiting over the side of the bed. A cursory glance showed that she’d managed to get quite a bit of her sick on herself as well. Patsy felt her heart clench as she tamped down an urge to sprint over to Delia and comfort her. Her skills were needed elsewhere, she reminded herself; people needed her to be strong. 

‘Are you alright Deels?’ Patsy called out across the tent. 

Delia responded by curling up into a ball again and remaining motionless on her bed. Patsy sighed. They _needed_ to get Delia’s head scanned. 

Ameera’s voice rang out, ‘Umm…Nurse Mount, Barbara’s heart rate is seventy beats per minute and her blood pressure is seventy five over forty.’ 

Patsy jerked her head around, ‘ Seventy five over forty?’ Shit. That was much too low much too quickly. They needed to get Barbara some fluids or her brain wouldn’t get enough blood. 

Patsy felt tendrils of panic begin to seep into her limbs as her vision started to blur around the edges. There were too many things going on. There weren’t enough hands. Someone was going to die while she was in charge. 

She closed her eyes and took a few deep, measured breaths. 

She could do this. 

She could stay calm. 

She could stay in control. 

After one final deep breath, she opened her eyes again and looked over at Shelagh, who was staring at her expectantly while struggling to hold Evangelina’s coughing body still, ‘We’re going to stay here and keep working to get Evangelina stable.’ She turned and yelled over her shoulder, ‘Winifred! Leave Nurse Crane’s leg for now. Go and hook up a fluid bag to Barbara’s IV.’ 

Patsy turned to continue the test as she heard Winifred make her way to to the supply room. 

After a minute or so, she heard Nurse Crane call out from behind her, ‘When you’re done with that, Winifred, go and see if you can get Delia back into the CT scanner. It’s imperative we get her head scanned.’ 

Patsy called out over her shoulder, ‘Thank you, Nurse Crane, that’s quite accurate. Winifred, try to get Delia cleaned up a bit first. She’s confused and hurting right now, and isn’t likely to want to be cooperative. Cleaning her up a bit while gently explaining what you’re doing could appease her slightly.’

‘Alright, I’ll try.’ Winifred didn’t sound at all confident. 

Patsy continued the scan, she and Shelagh carefully examining the image on the screen. A worryingly large portion of Evangelina’s lungs looked clouded in fluid.

‘She may need a blood transfusion if she continues bleeding at this rate,’ Patsy surmised. 

‘That’s a bit of a moot point, unfortunately,’ Shelagh glanced towards the operating theatre, ‘Our entire blood supply is in there, I believe.’ 

‘Then we need to get her evacuated as soon as possible. Let’s get this arm stabilized so she has a chance to keep it.’ 

Evangelina coughed again, spraying the inside of her oxygen mask with blood. 

Shelagh whipped it off to clean it out while Patsy circled the bed to begin work on Evangelina’s arm. 

Winifred called out across the tent, ‘Ummm…Patsy? I can’t clean Delia up.’ 

‘Why ever not?’

‘She won’t let me touch her. She keeps telling me to go away.’ 

Patsy huffed with impatience. She didn’t have the capacity to hold Winifred’s hand through the simplest of assignments, ‘She’s in a lot of pain, Winifred, and this is an overwhelming environment. She was also a bit disoriented before, so she may not know exactly who you are. Just…try to calm her down.’ 

Instead of answering, Winifred looked down at Delia for a moment before leaning closer to the brunette with a focused look on her face. After a moment she stood up, looking a bit flummoxed, ‘She says she knows I’m Winifred and it’s me specifically she wants to go away. She also says that _overwhelming_ is an understatement and she’s not sure it would have been possible to find a place that was brighter and louder.’ 

The surge of relief that hit Patsy brought tears to her eyes and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. Delia had come back. Glancing over, she saw that Nurse Crane was also smirking slightly. She had to restrain herself from running to Delia. She couldn’t imagine anything more comforting right now than seeing recognition in Delia’s eyes. 

Another coughing fit by Evangelina brought Patsy back to her current task. 

She felt for the break along Evangelina’s arm while she called out across the tent, ‘Delia, sweetheart, this is Patsy. I need you to listen to Winifred right now. I know it hurts, but we _need_ to get a scan of your head. Could you please lay back for me?’ 

She watched with a profound sense of gratitude as Delia slowly unfurled herself and lay back. Winifred activated the machine and stood waiting patiently. Patsy turned her focus back to Evangelina’s arm.

Just as Winifred called out that Delia’s scan was complete, Julienne strode rapidly into the tent, glancing around for a moment before calling out, ‘The transport is ready when we are. How is everyone?’ 

Patsy kept her eyes on Evangelina, ‘We’re working on getting everyone stabilized. Delia’s scan just came through, if you wouldn’t mind taking a look.’ 

Julienne nodded and made her way to the machine, squinting down at the screen before calling Shelagh over to consult. Patsy felt her heart pounding in her chest as they murmured amongst themselves for a moment before Julienne leaned down and chatted with the re-huddled Delia. Finally, Julienne gave an authoritative nod and turned to talk to Winifred for a moment before addressing the tent. 

‘Delia’s scan looks normal, so we’re going to give her some non-narcotic pain medication and move her to the isolation tent where it will be quieter and darker. Winifred will go with her to keep her under observation.’ 

Patsy felt herself release a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Delia was going to be alright. She longed to go over and assure Delia she’d be by her side as soon as she possibly could, but getting Evangelina stabilized took priority. 

Before they left, Nurse Crane called Winifred over to her and whispered something in her ear. Patsy noticed Winifred looking at Delia in shock for a moment before giving Nurse Crane a small nod and rolling Delia out of the medical tent. 

With Julienne there, Patsy could feel the weight of responsibility lift off her shoulders. The subsequent minutes flew by in a blur as she, Shelagh and Julienne worked to get Evangelina ready for transport, regulate Barbara’s blood pressure, and stabilize Nurse Crane’s leg. 

Finally, Trixie, looking utterly exhausted, popped her head out of the operating theatre to announce that Jane was prepared for transfer. 

Chummy remained to check on Nurse Crane and Barbara while Trixie and Ameera carried Jane out to the waiting truck. The orderly was swaddled in blankets, her lower half completely obscured. Patsy wondered how much, if any, of her legs they’d been able to save. 

Patsy and Julienne followed closely behind with Evangelina, loading her into the transport. They worked to get both patients settled while Ameera went to check in with Peter, and Trixie ran to wash up. 

Patsy eyed the two members of Peter’s team who had been tasked with driving the transport. Neither of them had in-depth medical training, and it was a long drive to a more comprehensive medical facility.

She took a deep breath and turned to Julienne, ‘Do you need me to accompany them?’ Patsy felt panic gnaw at her even as she asked. She didn’t want to leave Delia, her desire to go and be by the brunette’s bedside almost overwhelming her senses, but she knew she needed to offer. Lives were at stake and Delia would still be here when she returned. 

The knot in her stomach unclenched as she saw Julienne shake her head. 

‘No, I need all of the nursing staff to remain here. We were already short-staffed as it was, and now we’ve lost two nurses and an orderly. A team of medical staff from Camp Canary will recon with our transport near Alston.’ 

Patsy nodded, hoping that she wasn’t showing just how profound her relief was. She hopped out of the transport, turning to see Julienne take Evangelina’s right hand. The camp director bent down to whisper something in her old friend’s ear, smiling softly at her before giving her hand a small squeeze and joining Patsy. 

They closed the doors and waved the driver off. They both stood watching the transport trundle its way out of the gate and off down the winding road. It dipped out of sight for a moment before appearing again, wending its way north up the valley. They stayed until it finally rounded a bend and vanished out of sight for good. Patsy felt a numbness creep up through her fingers and toes, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her slowly receding. 

Finally, Julienne took a deep breath, ‘Normally, I’d tell you to go get a bite to eat and get some rest, but I suspect there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.’ She turned to Patsy and reached out, placing a hand gently on her arm, ‘Thank you, Patsy. You did a phenomenal job today, and I’m incredibly proud of you.’ Patsy noticed that Julienne’s eyes were wet as she gave Patsy’s arm a little squeeze, ‘Now, go be with her. She was asking about you in the medical tent, and I know she’s eager to see you.’ 

Patsy nodded her thanks and turned, walking briskly towards the isolation tent. 

On the way, she allowed herself a small smile. She had made Julienne proud. She had stayed calm and saved people. She had been strong. 

But now, she didn’t need to be anymore. Now she could go and be with the person her heart had been longing for. The person who she thought she had lost, but had been brought back to her. The person who she loved more than she knew how to express. 

She picked up her pace, breaking into a jog as she made her way through camp, running towards the one person who could set the world right simply by holding her in her arms. Patsy would check on Delia and make sure she was really alright. That her brain was healing and her scrapes were bandaged and her pain was managed, and then…then Patsy didn’t plan on leaving Delia’s side. Not tonight. Not the next night. Not ever.


	24. Delia

Delia wanted Patsy.

As her thoughts swirled, muddy and confused, through her pounding head, that singular truth shone through the fog. She wanted Patsy. She wanted Patsy to be here, making her feel better, caring for her, holding her. She wanted it in a desperate, gasping way. As if she were sinking into a swirling ocean of her own confusion and Patsy was the only thing that would keep her afloat. 

She took a deep breath and tried to focus her whirling thoughts. She concentrated on the basics. Where was she? Somewhere quiet. Quieter than before. Before it had been noisy. Too noisy. The medical tent. She’d been in the medical tent. Patsy had been in the medical tent. Delia wanted Patsy here now. 

Delia furrowed her brow and immediately inhaled sharply with pain. Moving her face _hurt_. Why did it hurt so much? Had it hurt before? She tried to remember but all she could recall was pain. So much pain. Her whole head had hurt.

She felt the pain that pulsed through it now, shooting from her head down her neck and dissipating through her entire body until she could feel the beat of it in her toes. It was…manageable. Bearable. That was new. Julienne. Julienne had told her that she was going to be given something for the pain. Delia had asked for Patsy and Julienne had told her she would give her something for the pain. It hadn’t felt like an appropriate consolation. 

Julienne had also told her she was moving her…where? She risked raising the arm that was shielding her face and opening her right eye slightly. It felt oddly difficult to open, as if she’d slept on it awkwardly…or was it swollen? She could barely make out the outline of medical equipment in a darkened room. She knew this place. She’d been here before. Her bite scar felt a twinge of discomfort and started aching. The isolation tent. Patsy had been here with her then. Patsy had sat with her. 

That was before. Before she knew just how wonderful Patsy was. She’d suspected even then, but now she _knew_. She knew how strong and caring and compassionate and brilliant Patsy was. She wanted Patsy to be here. She wanted to be with Patsy. 

Thoughts of Patsy made her feel more grounded. Warmer. They took the edge off the pain. She remembered holding Patsy outside the dance, when her feelings were new. That seemed like aeons ago. She remembered the joy that rushed through her heart every time she saw Patsy’s smiling face…their giggled conversations…playing by the reservoir. 

The memories brought a small smile to her lips, and she gasped in pain again. Even that small smile was excruciating. She began methodically moving the muscles of her face, quickly determining that the entire right side must have significant bruising. She wondered how ghastly she looked. Was she bleeding? She needed to check if she was bleeding. 

She sat up slightly, hoping to find a tissue or cloth, when she heard a voice from behind her. 

‘Are you up now Delia? You took a wee bit of a nap after I gave you the pain medication. Just while I was out, though…I was about to wake you. I have strict instructions to make sure you’re staying lucid.’ 

Delia grumbled and curled back into a ball. Winifred. Julienne had sent Winifred to watch her. Delia didn’t _want_ to see Winifred. Winifred had been lying to her. They’d _all_ been lying to her. She felt a wave of nausea roil through her. 

Her team had betrayed her. 

No. 

They weren’t her team. She didn’t have a team anymore. They hadn’t trusted her and she couldn’t trust them. She had been with them for _years_ , given them everything, and they had betrayed her. She groaned as the full extent of their deception sank in. They were making bombs. Why were they making bombs? What had Evanglina said? Were they going to blow up the compound? What had they thought Delia would do? Were they going to leave her here? Send her away? What had she done to deserve being cast aside? All she’d ever wanted was to be a dependable member of the team. 

‘Umm…Delia? Are you going to throw up again? It’s alright if you are. I just…I have a bucket this time. So maybe you can throw up in that?’ 

Delia felt a spark of anger flare in her chest. Why did it have to be bloody _Winifred_? Delia had saved her, taken her in, protected her, and even after all of that, Winifred had betrayed her. To have Winifred be the one taking care of her was just…insufferable, really. Why couldn’t Patsy be watching her? Or Peter? Or…anyone else? 

She stayed tightly wrapped around herself and growled, ‘I don’t want you here. I want Patsy.’ 

Delia was surprised to hear a distinct edge in Winifred’s reply, ‘Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. However, while you are by far the most petulant patient, you are also the least injured, so you’re stuck with me.’ 

Delia felt her anger wane as she remembered that others were injured. Badly. Someone had mentioned Phyllis’ leg and they were yelling Barbara’s vitals and Evangelina…Patsy had been taking care of Evangelina, that’s what Julienne had said. Patsy couldn’t be with Delia because Evangelina needed her. Delia felt a bloom of pride in her chest. Patsy was a good nurse. Patsy was someone other people relied on. And Evangelina was badly injured. Julienne had told her that. Evangelina needed to be stabilized. Delia was already stable. So she got Winifred. 

As if signalled by Delia’s thoughts, she heard the small spy take a deep breath behind her. Her voice, when it came, was once again tentative. 

‘Look, I understand you don’t want me to be here, but…well… _are_ you going to throw up again? Because last time you made quite the mess of yourself and I thought this time you might want to avoid that.’ 

‘I threw up on myself?’ A hazy memory surfaced of lying back and whirring noises and feeling terribly ill. Of Patsy’s voice calling out to her. 

‘Well, mostly, you also got a good amount of it on the floor.’ 

Delia loosened her grip on herself a bit and reached up to feel her chest. The sticky wetness that greeted her hand made her recoil. For a brief moment she thought it was blood before remembering that Winifred had just told her it was vomit. Somehow this knowledge brought her a renewed awareness of herself, and she realized with horror that she smelled rank. 

‘Ugh. I’m disgusting.’ 

‘I wouldn’t go that far, but you’ve definitely smelled better. Do you need the bucket now?’ 

Delia unfurled and lay back on the bed, taking stock of herself. How did she feel? Her head was still pounding and her face stung. Did she need to throw up? She lay very still and felt the pain pulse its way through her body. She felt shaky and weak, as if she’d been smacked by hundreds of hammers simultaneously, which she supposed in a way she had. But she didn’t feel nauseous. 

‘No. I don’t think so. My stomach feels alright now.’ 

‘Well then, would you like to change shirts? That’s where I went…to get you a fresh shirt. I thought you might want to get out of that soiled one.’ 

‘You got me a clean shirt?’ Despite herself, Delia was touched. 

‘I did. Now let’s get that dirty one off, shall we?’ 

Winifred stood and reached for the front of her shirt, but Delia felt a sudden sharp defensiveness flare up in her. She didn’t want Winifred’s help. She didn’t want to rely on her old team for anything anymore.

Delia flinched away, the anger returning to her voice, ‘Don’t touch me. I can do it myself.’ 

Winfred pulled back, looking uncertain, while Delia felt for the buttons on her thoroughly soiled shirt. Her shaking hands had some difficulty manoeuvring them, and she eventually resorted to simply ripping it open, muttering something about the shirt being destroyed anyway. 

She’d grabbed the clean shirt to put on when she heard Winifred clear her throat. Looking over, she saw the small spy holding up a wet cloth. 

‘Maybe you want to wipe down first? Your chest still looks damp with your sick, though it may be sweat.’

Delia looked down and noticed that her chest did look a bit…sticky. She begrudgingly reached out her hand for the cloth and wiped herself down, throwing it irritably on the bedside table when she was done. She managed to get the clean shirt onto herself, realizing as she did that she was sore in places she’d forgotten existed, but reached an impasse when her stuttering fingers simply couldn’t negotiate the buttons. She struggled with them for several long minutes before finally throwing her arms up with a frustrated growl.

‘Fine. You can help.’

After a moment of uncertainty, Winifred nodded and leaned forward, her dextrous fingers making quick work of the buttons. Delia lay back on the bed, rigid and annoyed, glaring at the ceiling. 

Once Winifred was finished she pulled back and cleared her throat awkwardly, ‘There. All buttoned up. Now you’ll be more presentable when Patsy comes. Not that she’d care what you smelled like…but…well…who wants to sit in their own sick anyway?’ 

Delia snapped her head towards Winifred and immediately regretted it, a sharp shooting pain rocking through it. She tried to brush off the pain, focusing on more important things, ‘Patsy’s coming?’ 

Winifred gave an authoritative nod and sat down in the little chair next to the bed, ‘She was nothing but professional in the medical tent, but it was obvious that she was worried about you. She kept glancing over at you and stroking your hair when she was near you and things like that. I’m sure she’ll be here just as soon as she can.’ 

Delia smiled, ignoring the sting, and stared back at the ceiling. Patsy had been worried about her. Had wanted to be with her. She had wanted Patsy to be with her too. She wanted Patsy here now. And Patsy was coming. She’d be here soon. And then Winifred wouldn’t have to be here anymore. It could be just her and Patsy, and everything would be alright. 

‘Umm…Delia?’ Winifred’s voice broke through her happy musings and Delia closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. 

‘What?’ Her tone was perhaps unnecessarily harsh. 

‘I’m…well…I’m glad that you and Patsy found each other. You seem really happy when you’re with her.’ 

Delia looked over at Winifred, a bit curious. This was certainly a shift from a week ago. The small spy was staring down at her hands, her face turned away so Delia couldn’t make out her expression. Delia sighed and decided to be magnanimous enough to accept this olive branch. 

‘I’m glad too. I _am_ happy when I’m with her. She makes me feel so…loved.’ 

Winifred gave a small nod, ‘I can see that now.’ She sounded almost sad. 

Delia waited for several moments, but it didn’t appear Winifred was going to say anything else. She lay back and closed her eyes again, thinking about just how loved Patsy made her feel. She hoped Patsy felt even a fraction as supported and cherished as she did. 

Winifred’s voice disturbed the silence again, so soft and tentative Delia almost couldn’t hear it. 

‘Phyllis told me that you know. That you found out we’d been planning another operation without you. She said you were really upset.’ 

Delia felt all of the anger and hurt flare up again. She didn’t want to think about this now. About the team and their lies. She wanted to think about Patsy. She lashed out, her voice angry and hard, ‘And why would that be, Winifred? Why would I _possibly_ be upset that my team had been lying to me? That you’d all been _betraying_ me for over a month?’ 

Delia was somewhat pleased to see Winifred flinch at the word ‘betray’, though her brow furrowed as Delia finished her outburst. She looked into Delia’s eyes, obviously confused. 

‘Over a month? I only found out two weeks ago...’ she trailed off when she saw the intensity of Delia’s glare, ‘I mean…that’s not really the point.’ She looked down at her hands again, ‘I’m sorry I agreed to do it. I’m sorry that I lied to you. You’ve done so much for me. We’ve been through so much together. You deserved better.’ 

An incredible wrath coiled tightly in Delia’s chest, and a part of her wanted to simply…unleash it. To scream and shout and let out every ounce of hurt she felt at being distrusted, deceived, _discarded_. But as she took in her former teammate, looking miserable and contrite huddled in the uncomfortable bedside chair, she realized that her ire would be wasted on Winifred. All that a screaming fit here would accomplish was making her head pound and her face sting. 

The real object of her anger was lying in the medical tent with an injured leg. Delia felt a kind of perverse satisfaction in knowing that at least Phyllis had suffered a consequence for her deception. Delia shook her head. She shouldn’t let her anger get to her, she didn’t want anyone to have gotten hurt. 

For a brief moment she wished Phyllis were here so she could have a fitting outlet for her ire, but then she realized that she didn’t want to hear the excuses. The rational-seeming justifications Phyllis would have for why Delia had been deemed unworthy. No, releasing her anger would only be cathartic if it resulted in contrition, and Delia had known Phyllis long enough to know that an apology was unlikely. 

Phyllis had undoubtedly had her reasons for her orchestrated deception and Delia decided in that moment that she didn’t care to know them. Whatever they were, they were unjustified, and Delia didn’t have the desire to hear Phyllis stubbornly defend them. To have the woman who’d spent eight years preaching honesty stand by her decision to deem herself exempt from her own principles. It would be too rage-inducing. Too painful. 

She’d given Phyllis everything and in return Phyllis had discarded her, deemed her unworthy. But two could play at that game, and if she was unworthy of Phyllis’ time, Phyllis was unworthy of hers. As far as Delia was concerned, it would be fine if she never spoke to Phyllis again. 

But it wasn’t Phyllis who was here right now, sitting in front of her, apologizing. It was Winifred. Winifred who was contrite, who had apologized, but who had also lied. As Delia reflected on that deception, she realized that more than anger, her feelings towards Winifred were a deep, visceral hurt. Hurt pride that even Winifred had been trusted over her, yes, but also a profound hurt that Winifred, of all people, would have agreed to lie to her. She had thought she had earned more loyalty than that. She had thought, apparently naively, that Winifred wouldn’t be capable of that level of deception. But obviously she was and obviously whatever closeness they had shared hadn’t been enough to spare Delia from Winifred’s betrayal. 

As she stared at Winifred, she realized that she really only had one question. One thing that she _needed_ to know. She tried to hide the hurt in her voice, though she heard it crack as she asked, ‘Why? Why did you agree to lie to me, after everything we’ve been through?’ 

Winifred folded into herself even further, as if she was trying to shrink down into nothingness, ‘I don’t…I don’t really have a good reason. I was just surprised and…confused, and Phyllis said you were too emotionally involved and I just…I just decided to go along with her. Because I felt like I didn’t know you anymore. Because it felt like you’d lied to me too.’

‘Lied to you? How?’ 

Winifred’s response was so soft Delia struggled to hear it, ‘You never told me you were gay, and I thought…I thought you’d been lying to me all this time.’ 

‘Oh Winifred, I wasn’t intentionally lying to you. I just thought you knew. I thought _everyone_ knew. I’m not particularly subtle about it.’

‘I know that now. Well…mostly. I mean, I know everyone else knew.’ 

Delia eyed Winifred for a moment, ‘Is it a problem for you? Me being a lesbian?’ 

Winifred flinched slightly, ‘I mean…no. Not really. I was just…surprised, I suppose. I’ve never really known a gay person, I mean, that I knew of, and I was thinking more about what it meant for me than you, but I’ve been talking to Evangelina about it and she’s helped me understand that it’s nothing to do with me, really.’ 

‘You’ve been talking to _Evangelina_ about it?’ Delia couldn’t hide her surprise. The gruff nurse would be among the last people Delia would consider going to for emotional support. 

Winifred nodded sadly, ‘I know everyone’s scared of her, but she’s been really kind…to me. She’s been helping me understand…things…about myself. And helping me think about my future. She’s been wonderful, really. I’m not sure what I would have done without her…’ she trailed off, worrying her nails with her thumb. 

Delia recalled that Evangelina had been in a bad state, ‘How is she? I remember Julienne saying they were working on stabilizing her.’ 

Winifred shrugged, ‘I don’t know, really. She looked badly injured and was coughing up blood, but Patsy and Shelagh were caring for her. They seemed to think she’d be alright to get to the transport, but no one told me anything,’ she looked down at her hands, her voice cracking slightly, ‘I’m worried about her.’ 

Watching Winifred nervously fidget in her chair, Delia felt a rush of empathy. To not know how someone who you cared about was doing, if they were even alive. She leaned over and reached out, placing a hand on Winifred’s shoulder, ‘With the medical team here taking care of her, I’m sure she’ll pull through. Remember what a good job they did caring for Barbara and Phyllis when we first arrived? And anyway, Evangelina’s made of incredibly tough stuff. It’s going to take more than a bomb blast to take her down.’ 

‘You think so?’ 

Delia nodded, ‘I do. And while we can’t know for certain, I _do_ know that hope is better than worry. And so we can hope for her together, alright?’ 

Winifred gave Delia a small, watery smile and nodded. 

Delia felt herself slipping into the big sister role she so often played with Winifred. As hurt as Delia was, it was hard to stay distant in the face of genuine earnestness. And she knew that defining herself independently had been a lifelong struggle for Winifred. She took a deep breath, ‘I’m glad you’ve found someone who’s helping you learn things about yourself. I know sometimes that’s been a struggle for you…being sure of who _you_ are, after the camps.’ 

Winifred gave a small nod, ‘I’m still working on unlearning what I was taught, trying to think about what _I_ really think, who _I_ really am, and I don’t…I don’t know that I’m really ready to talk about it. It’s all still quite…new. But I want you to know that I am happy for you and Patsy. We’ve known each other for a long time, and I’ve never seen you happier.’ 

Delia smiled, ‘I don’t know that I’ve ever _been_ happier.’ 

Winifred cleared her throat and looked away, her awkwardness returned, ‘Also, I know that you’ve been staying in Patsy’s tent at least partially because of me, and I want you to know that you’re both welcome to sleep in our tent sometimes, if you want. I haven’t really slept in my own room, well, ever really, and it gets kind of lonely in there sometimes.’ 

‘Thanks, Winifred. We will.’ Delia couldn’t help but be impressed with Winifred’s progress. Evangelina really had worked wonders. 

Delia lay back again and tried to turn her thoughts back to Patsy, but as she sat in the moments of silence that followed, her hurt slowly built back up. Winifred had felt that Delia had lied to her about her sexuality, so she had agreed to an extended betrayal? That hardly seemed like a justifiable reason. She stared hard at the small spy for a moment before deciding to push. 

‘I know you’ve apologized, but was being surprised by my sexuality really your reason for agreeing to go along with the plan? Because that doesn’t really seem fair…for you to lie to me because you weren’t comfortable with who I am.’ 

The shame returned to Winifred’s face and she looked back at her hands, ‘I know. That’s why I said I didn’t have a good reason. And I know it’s not an excuse, but I heard such terrible things about gay people growing up, and then to find out you’d been gay this whole time, and then Phyllis said you were thinking about leaving the team, and I just felt like I didn’t know you anymore, and –’ 

‘Wait,’ Delia cut her off, ‘Phyllis said I was thinking about leaving the team?’ 

Winifred nodded, her words tumbling out in a rush, ‘She said you were considering ways of staying here to be with Patsy, and Barbara said that she wasn’t sure that was true and that maybe Phyllis was just justifying things, but I didn’t know what to think, and it just felt like there was this whole part of yourself you’d kept from me, and now you were leaving without telling me, and it was just…overwhelming. And they said it was for the greater good, for stopping the new Reaper virus, so I just…went along with it. I’m sorry.’ 

Delia’s pounding brain struggled to take in this glut of information. Phyllis had told Winifred she was thinking of leaving the team to be with Patsy…what had Winifred said…two weeks ago? That was before she and Patsy had even kissed. _Had_ she been considering staying with Patsy then? She shook her head. No. She had known she had liked Patsy, but her team was her family. Leaving them had seemed…impossible. She certainly hadn’t discussed anything with Phyllis.

So Phyllis had been justifying her deception by spreading lies about Delia’s intentions and saying it was for the greater good. She felt the coil of anger in her gut writhe, begging to be unleashed. She tamped it down, feeling it seethe under its restriction, growing ever stronger. She considered storming into the medical tent and giving Phyllis the bollocking she deserved.

But no. Phyllis didn’t deserve her anger. Phyllis didn’t deserve anything from Delia anymore. Delia had Patsy. She had Abigail. She had people who _really_ cared for her. She didn’t need to allow Phyllis to take up room in her heart. In her mind. 

Delia took a deep breath and re-focused on Winifred, ‘Thank you for apologizing, but I never lied to you, alright? Not about who I am and not about leaving the team. Patsy is incredibly important to me, but the team is-’ she paused, correcting herself, ‘ _was_ important to me too. I’m not sure how everything would have played out, but I would have talked to you about it. I would never have just _left_.’ 

Winifred nodded, ‘I know that now. I was wrong before.’ 

They sat in silence for several long moments, Delia ruminating on her anger, before Winifred’s voice broke through the silence again. 

‘Are you leaving the team now?’ 

Delia sighed, ‘I’m not sure I can stay. I don’t…I don’t trust them anymore.’ 

‘You could talk to Phyllis? Explain how you feel. Maybe you could work things out?’ 

‘No,’ Delia shook her head, ‘I don’t want to talk to Phyllis. She made her choice. She knew exactly what she was doing, how it would make me feel, and she did it anyway. I don’t want to be on a team with someone who would do that. If that’s what being a spy _really_ is, well then, I don’t want to do it anymore.’ 

‘What would you do instead?’ 

Delia shrugged, ‘I don’t know.’ She felt her heart constrict as a great expanse of nothingness opened up before her. What _would_ she do? Up until now, opportunities had just kind of…presented themselves. Joining Abigail. Joining the Quartet. But now…now she didn’t have a plan. All she knew was that whatever she did next, she wanted it to be with Patsy, ‘I don’t think I’ll make any decisions until I’ve had a chance to talk to Patsy.’ 

Winifred nodded and Delia realized that her leaving the team put Winifred in a terribly awkward position. She quickly added, ‘I’m sorry to abandon you on the team, Winifred. I know you only joined because of me...’ 

Winifred shook her head and held up her hand, stopping Delia, ‘I joined because of _me_ , Delia, because I didn’t know what else to do at the time and it seemed like an option that gave structure. And you were a big part of that structure, but you never forced me into it.’ She took a deep breath and readjusted in her seat, ‘I actually wanted to talk to you even before this whole explosion happened. When Phyllis told me you were leaving I was so hurt that you hadn’t talked to me first, and so I wanted you to be the first to know that I’m leaving the team.’ 

‘Really?’ Despite knowing that Winifred had never particularly wanted to be a spy, Delia was shocked that something had actually motivated her to leave, ‘Is it because of this mission?’

‘No. Well…sort of, I suppose. I haven’t enjoyed being a spy for quite some time…maybe ever, really, but I didn’t know what else I could do. But being here, helping in the medical tent, I feel…good, like I’m _doing_ good. I haven’t felt that way since we were rescuing people from the camps. And I think that, with training, it’s something I can be good at,’ she relaxed as she spoke, and her eyes got a glint of determination Delia had never seen in them before, ‘So I spoke to Evangelina and she and Julienne have recommended me for admission into a nursing program in the Bloc. They think that after all of my years of service I have an excellent chance of getting in. And Julienne has even said that she thinks I could do my training here, at Camp Poplar.’ 

Delia was astonished. Winifred had actually taken initiative. 

‘It sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.’ 

Winifred nodded vigorously, ‘I have. I’m so excited to have found something that just seems _right_. That will be doing good,’ her face broke out in a toothy grin, ‘ _And_ I’ll never have to go on another mission again as long as I live.’

Delia smiled at her, ‘I’m happy for you Winifred. I’m proud of you for finding something that _you_ want to do.’ 

Winifred suddenly looked a bit more serious and reached down to pick up a small satchel that had been resting on the floor next to her seat, ‘I do feel bad that I’m leaving you, though, because you have a tendency to get into trouble, and I won’t be here to protect you anymore.’ 

‘ _You_ won’t be here to protect _me_?’ Delia’s amused disbelief was evident in her voice. 

Winifred furrowed her brow, apparently confused, ‘Of course. I’ve spent the past eight years keeping you safe when you get into trouble…shutting off the power grids, turning on alarms, opening emergency doors when you were trapped. And I’m worried about what kind of trouble you’ll get into without me there to watch out for you, so I made you this.’ 

She reached down into the satchel and pulled out a dark vest, offering it up, ‘I got the idea when I was taking apart a burned up incendiary and noticed that the Redemptionists used what looked like a piece of composite metal foam to house the ignition mechanism, probably because it can stand the intense heat but is light enough to allow them to get enough lift. I started testing it and realized that it’s also bulletproof. So I took the foam pieces from all of the extinguished incendiaries and soldered them together to make this body armour for you. I used the template from that lamé jacket thing we tried to make for fencing, so it should fit quite snugly.’ 

Delia was astonished, ‘Something this thin will repel bullets?’ 

Winifred nodded excitedly, ‘It’s a bit weaker at the soldered points, but it’s really an incredible substance. The Redemptionists have been foolish to be putting it in incendiaries, though I suspect they thought the pieces were small enough we couldn’t find a use for them. But I was able to figure out how to connect them.’ 

As Delia inspected the vest, she felt warmth flow through her. She was incredibly touched. 

‘And its bulletproofness is only part of it,’ Winifred continued, puffing a bit with pride, ‘Remember how we kept shocking ourselves with the lamé? Well, I fiddled with it and figured out how to make it so the vest can deliver a shock to anyone who grabs you. Just flip this little switch to arm it.’ She indicated a switch at the base of the vest. 

Delia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, ‘It can shock people? Winifred, this is amazing. I feel a bit bad that you designed the perfect spy-wear only to have me leave the team.’ 

Winifred chuckled, ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of ways of getting yourself into trouble even if you’re not a spy. You had your share of tangles before, if you remember.’ 

Delia smiled warmly, ‘Thank you, Winifred. This must have been a huge amount of work. It’s just…incredibly kind of you.’ 

Winifred cocked her head to the side and gave Delia an odd look, ‘You saved my life, Delia. Literally. I owe you far more than this,’ she paused for a moment, looking down again, ‘And I know it can’t make up for lying to you, but I also wanted it to be something of an apology.’ 

‘I appreciate it,’ she looked at the woman who she’d spent the last nine years with. While she could be frustrating at times, she’d become something like a sister to Delia. Always earnest and cheerful despite her trepidation. Always willing to find a way to make it work in spite of her often less-than-helpful conviction to do no harm. It had been a joy to watch her grow, to finally find herself, ‘I’ll miss you.’ She was a bit surprised by just how much she meant it. 

Winifred shot her a shy smile, ‘I’ll miss you too. Though I’m not going anywhere just yet. Nursing programs don’t start until the fall, and there’s some electric projects around camp Julienne wants me to look at.’ 

Delia listened patiently as Winifred proudly began listing various tasks around camp she’d been entrusted with. Her ramblings were interrupted suddenly by the clomping of footsteps running towards them. Both of them turned to look curiously towards the tent entrance, which had been loosely closed to block the early-evening light. The steps slowed and stopped for a brief moment before the flaps of the tent rustled open.

Delia was momentarily blinded, even the soft evening light sending pain shooting through her head. She gasped in surprise and reached up to shield her eyes. 

An apologetic voice called out softly, ‘I’m sorry. I should have warned you.’ 

Delia’s heart skipped a beat as she heard the unmistakable clipped accent. Patsy had come to her. Patsy was here. 

‘Don’t be sorry,’ Delia assured, ‘We heard you coming, I just didn’t know how light sensitive my eyes would be.’ 

She heard a rustling before the voice returned, ‘There, it should be safe to open your eyes again.’ 

Even _hearing_ Patsy sent a tingling cascade of warmth through her. Delia opened her eyes and as they re-adjusted she could make out Patsy standing uncertainly near the entrance to the tent. Her uniform was a mess, untucked on one side and covered in grime, and yet she still managed to look resplendent. Delia noticed that her body seemed tense, her jaw clenched and shoulders taut, but her eyes were filled with warmth and worry. Seeing her made Delia feel light and happy, and she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in Patsy’s arms. A beaming smile crept across her face, and for once she didn’t notice the sting, ‘Hello Pats.’ 

Patsy’s shoulders relaxed, the tension seeming to ease out of her as a relieved smile crept across her face, ‘Hello Deels.’ 

They simply stared at each other for a moment, grins on each of their faces, before Patsy shook her head slightly, as if rousing herself from a daze, and moved towards the bed. As she walked she turned to Winifred, ‘How long has she been lucid?’ 

‘She was a bit groggy at first, but she’s been completely coherent the whole time we’ve been here.’ 

Patsy gave a satisfied nod as she approached the bedside, reaching for Delia’s hand and gripping it tightly. Delia felt warmth emanate out from that point of contact and flow through her entire body. Patsy reached out with her other hand and gently caressed Delia’s hair, her eyes full of caring and concern. Delia’s heart thumped happily in her chest. Patsy was here. 

Suddenly, Patsy’s brow furrowed and she looked towards Winifred accusingly, ‘Her facial abrasions haven’t been cleaned.’ 

Delia jumped in, ‘That’s my fault, actually. Up until very recently, I wouldn’t let her touch me, so she hasn’t really had the chance.’

Patsy glanced back and forth between them, obviously a bit confused, and Delia continued, ‘Just because I’ve been lucid doesn’t mean I haven’t been difficult. Anyway, I have Nurse Mount here to take care of me now.’ 

Delia was surprised to see some of the tension creep back into Patsy’s bearing. Her voice remained gentle, but took on a slightly clinical tone, ‘Well, the first step of caring for you is making sure those abrasions are properly sterilized.’ 

She released Delia’s hand and bustled over to the sink to wash her hands and gather supplies. Delia watched transfixed as Patsy efficiently rustled through the various drawers. She managed to somehow exude both competence and grace with her every movement and Delia knew she would never grow tired of watching her. She was absolutely beautiful. 

Delia was pulled from her reverie by Winifred softly clearing her throat, ‘I’m going to leave now.’ She reached out for the vest, ‘I’ll take this back to the tent with me. It’ll be waiting for you there.’ 

Delia thanked her and handed it over, looking back to see that Patsy had settled in on her right side and was eyeing her curiously. 

‘You have a clean shirt.’ 

Delia smiled mischievously, ‘Winifred got it for me because she wanted me to be presentable for you. It seems she’s a bit of a romantic.’ 

Patsy turned to Winifred, looking slightly surprised, but the smaller woman shook her head and rolled her eyes good-naturedly, ‘I got it so she wouldn’t have to sit in her own sick.’ 

Patsy shot Delia a small smile as she nodded in understanding, ‘That was very considerate of you.’ 

Winifred smiled and began to make her way towards the exit, but paused and looked back towards them uncertainly, ‘Umm…Patsy? Before I go, if you don’t mind my asking, how is Evangelina?’ 

Patsy tensed considerably and was silent for a moment before taking a deep breath, ‘She was stable when we loaded her onto the transport. I’m a bit worried about the nerve damage in her arm, but the primary concern at this point is her lungs and unfortunately there’s nothing we can do there but wait and hope. I’m sure we’ll receive an update as soon as she arrives in the Bloc.’ 

Winifred, looking a bit pale, gave a nod of acknowledgement and went to leave, but before she reached the tent flap Patsy called out, ‘Oh, and Winifred. Thank you for your help in the medical tent this evening. It was a stressful environment and your assistance was invaluable.’ 

Winifred broke out into a beaming smile, ‘You’re welcome. I’m glad that I could make myself useful.’ 

As Winifred ducked out of the tent, Delia thought about just how overwhelming the medical tent must have been for Patsy. Her friends injured, _Delia_ injured…and if Winifred was providing invaluable assistance they must have been short-staffed. How would she have felt if it had been Patsy who was injured? Her chest constricted and she felt almost breathless just thinking about it.

She looked up at Patsy, who was laying out medical supplies, and noticed the tension in her jaw, the slight jitteriness of her movements. Delia reached out and placed a gentle hand on Patsy’s arm. There was a hint of wariness in the look Patsy shot her and Delia responded with a soft smile, ‘How are _you_ feeling, Pats?’ 

Patsy’s smile in return didn’t quite reach her eyes, ‘I’ll feel much better once we get these abrasions cleaned out. We don’t want you getting an infection.’ She stood and reached out, pulling up a large light and positioning it facing Delia, ‘You’re going to want to close your eyes. I need light to ensure I’m cleaning your wound properly, but this light can be overwhelmingly bright even for those who aren’t light sensitive.’ 

Delia knew the redhead was deflecting, but didn’t want to risk pressing her about it when she couldn’t see Patsy’s face, so she nodded and closed her eyes. Patsy clicked on the light and Delia took in a sharp breath through her clenched teeth, shielding her face. Even with her eyes closed, the brightness was overwhelmingly painful and she felt waves of irritation shoot out from behind her eyes.

‘Sorry, sorry.’ Patsy sounded a bit panicked and Delia heard what she assumed was the light being shifted around. She felt Patsy’s hand gently rub her shoulder, ‘It should be manageable now. Shall we give it another try?’ 

Delia uncovered her eyes, noting that while it still throbbed a bit, it was bearable. She sat up and nodded, ‘I think this will work.’ 

‘Excellent, I’m going to start by cleaning out the abrasions, and it’s going to sting quite a bit.’ 

Delia nodded and braced herself. The sting as the alcohol hit her open skin made her flinch.

‘I know it smarts. I’ll be done soon, I promise.’ 

Delia inhaled deeply and nodded, clenching her fists tightly to distract herself from the pain. Still, the searing burn that radiated out from her face when Patsy applied the alcohol to her skin made her eyes water. She reminded herself that others had been badly hurt. That she’d been lucky to have such minor injuries. She realized asking about everyone else would be an excellent distraction. 

‘How are the others, besides Evangelina?’ 

She heard Patsy draw in a deep breath, ‘I’m actually not sure how Jane is. I know she was stable when we loaded her onto the transport, but she was in the operating theatre with Trixie and Chummy the entire time, and we didn’t receive any updates. Barbara’s head is much the same as when she first arrived here, and we have her sedated until the swelling goes down. Nurse Crane’s broken her right tibia and fibula in almost exactly the same place as before. Chummy’s hopeful it will be able to heal without surgical intervention, though I’d imagine Nurse Crane’s quite frustrated with having to go through the healing process again.’ 

Delia felt a surge of hurt shoot through her at the mention of Phyllis. A small, angry voice in her head hoped that Phyllis _was_ frustrated. It was the least she deserved. She chided herself. No. She wouldn’t let her anger take over. She wouldn’t be that person. She was here with Patsy. She didn’t need to think about Phyllis. She took a deep breath, ‘I’m glad everyone is stable.’ 

She heard Patsy give a little hum of assent, and she focused on the redhead. On her hands, which managed to be gentle even as they moved with practiced efficiency across her face. On the comfort of her presence so close to Delia’s side. On her soft, measured breaths as she concentrated. 

‘I’m finished with the alcohol. I think that one of these abrasions should be protected, so I’m going to bandage the entire area. About half of your face will be covered.’ 

‘That’s fine.’ Delia heard Patsy open a sterile bandage, and she thought back to when they’d first met. She allowed herself a small smile, ‘It looks as if we’ve come full circle, Pats.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘When we first met, Barbara had a head injury, Phyllis had a broken leg, and you cleaned up a cut on my face. Well, my hairline, but close enough.’ 

There was a moment of silence before Patsy responded. Her voice sounded oddly tense, ‘I suppose that’s true.’ 

Delia wanted to dispel the tension. She wanted Patsy to relax, ‘The only difference is that then I could look at you. I remember even then thinking about how beautiful you were. Your cheekbones and your eyes…’ She paused for a moment and sighed, ‘I could get lost forever in your eyes. They’re so gorgeous and… _warm_. Just looking into them makes me feel like I’m wrapped in a blanket.’ 

There were several long moments of silence and Delia began to worry. Still, she smiled as she asked, ‘Are you smiling, Pats? I can’t see your face, so you need to tell me how you’re reacting.’ 

Patsy’s voice was soft but she sounded pleased, ‘You’re very sweet.’ 

Delia could imagine the shy smile that would be gracing Patsy’s lips and it made her heart sing. She suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, ‘With my face all scraped up, I must look an absolute fright.’ 

Delia felt her breath catch as Patsy’s hand gently cradled her left jaw, her thumb rubbing softly against her cheek. It made the hairs on Delia’s neck stand on end as she felt a shiver run through her. 

Patsy’s voice was almost a whisper, ‘You’re still beautiful, I assure you.’ 

Delia felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. She wanted so badly to be able to open her eyes, but she knew it would be excruciating. 

‘Pats…’ 

Delia reached out, trying to find the redhead’s face, but Patsy took her searching hand in her own and gave it a squeeze before placing it back on the bed. 

After a moment, Patsy inhaled quickly and cleared her throat, ‘There, all patched up.’ 

Delia heard the light click off and immediately opened her eyes. As her vision adjusted she saw that Patsy was turned to the side, cleaning up the medical supplies. When she shifted back, she didn’t quite make eye contact, instead focusing on Delia’s bandage, her hands fluttering over the tape, checking it again. She still radiated an unspoken tension. 

‘Pats…’

‘And how is your pain? Is it being appropriately managed? Do you need more pain medication?’ 

‘Pats…’ Delia reached out and cupped Patsy’s jaw in her hand, gently turning Patsy’s face towards her and looking deeply into her eyes, ‘I’m alright. My head hurts a little, but my face is bandaged and I’m feeling better and I’m _alright_. You can relax. I don’t need anything but you.’ 

Patsy drew in a shaky breath and tears gathered in her eyes. She looked down, but didn’t pull away, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you before, when you came back…when you woke up. I’m sorry I left you.’ 

‘No, Pats, I understand. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud to be with someone who takes care of people. Who others trust and rely on. Who cares so much for _everyone_. You took care of me, and you also did what you needed to do for others. Don’t apologize for that. I’m just happy that you’re here now.’ 

Delia watched as Patsy loosened, the tension seeping out of her as she leaned into Delia’s hand, tears making their way down her cheeks. She looked up into Delia’s eyes, and her voice cracked, ‘I thought I’d lost you.’ 

Delia shook her head, ‘But you didn’t.’ 

Patsy looked down again, her voice still trembling, ‘What would I have done if I had lost you?’ 

Delia thought about how incredibly strong Patsy was. About how much she’d survived. About all she’d been through. She reached up with her other hand to cradle Patsy’s face, and drew Patsy in close to her, giving her a light kiss on her lips. She wiped Patsy’s tears away with her thumb and looked back into her eyes, her tone serious, ‘You would have survived, Pats. You’re incredibly strong, stronger than I could ever imagine being, and you would have survived. But you didn’t lose me, and you don’t have to think that way, alright?’ She raised an eyebrow and tried to lighten the mood, ‘It’s going to take a lot more than a medium-sized explosion to keep me apart from you.’ 

Patsy released a sniffling chuckle and reached up, taking one of Delia’s hands in hers and placing a light kiss on her palm. Delia was so relieved to see the small smile that crept across Patsy’s features, ‘You make that sound like a bit of a threat, Miss Busby.’ 

Delia smiled and shook her head, giving Patsy’s hand a little squeeze before bringing it to her and kissing Patsy lightly on the knuckles, ‘No, Pats, it’s a promise. I meant what I said out by the tree. I don’t care what it takes or what I have to do; I’m not leaving you. I want to be with you, and I’m not leaving you alone.’

Tears made their way down Patsy’s cheeks again, and Delia was surprised when, without warning, Patsy crawled up onto the bed, nuzzling her head into Delia’s chest and gripping her tightly around the waist. Delia wrapped Patsy snugly in her arms, releasing a contented sigh as she felt Patsy’s right leg come up over her own.

They lay there wrapped in each others’ embrace for several long moments, Delia lovingly caressing Patsy’s hair as she felt her pain simply…fall away, a deep, profound comfort flowing through her. She thought about just how much she loved the woman in her arms. Just how fulfilled she felt simply being near her. 

Patsy’s voice finally broke the silence, the words muffled by Delia’s shirt, but the voice strong, certain, ‘Delia…I love you.’ 

Delia felt like her heart might burst as she held Patsy to her tighter and kissed the top of her head, ‘I love you too, Pats. So very, very much.’


End file.
